Welcome to Gaia! ::

A shrill bird-shaped timer started peeping, adding its song to the whistling of a tea kettle and the sudden clunk as the wood in the fireplace shifted. Alex retrieved two small towels from the counter and opened the oven. The scent of brown sugar, almonds, and blueberries escaped from inside. After carefully lifting the tray out of the oven, Alex placed the tray on a large stone surface to cool before turning off the oven. He then transferred two of the lightly browned scones onto a small white plate. Alex used one of the towels to lift the tea kettle from its holder over the fire. He carefully poured the boiling water into a prepared teapot. The scones joined the teapot, the single cup, and the small bowl of homemade strawberry jam on the wooden tray. Also on the tray was a larger plate with its contents hidden beneath a round metal cover. Grabbing a handful of fresh berries from a basket, Alex sprinkled the blueberries and raspberries over the scones. He then wiped his hands, pulled on his white gloves, and carried the tray out of the kitchen with a damp towel draped over his right forearm. His black shoes made little sound as he softly tread through the hallways of Zedd’s house.

Balancing the tray on one hand, Alex opened the door to the terrace. He placed the covered plate, the plate with the scones, the jam bowl, and the handleless cup on the small white table, allowing the handful of stray petals on the table’s surface to remain. The metal cover was removed, revealing the steaming omelet beneath it. Finally, Alex placed a strainer over the cup and lifted the pot. The honey-colored fluid fell from the pot, through the strainer, and into the cup with hardly a splash. Placing the pot on the table, Alex then removed the strainer and set it to the side, arranged the utensils, brushed the petals off the white wicker chair, and tucked the tray under his arm.

“Another good batch, sir?” he inquired of Zedd after stepping away from the table. Alex transferred the damp towel to one of his hands, waiting to hold it out to Zedd should the male approach.

Zedd turned toward the terrace, and on cue orange text appeared as he set his goggled gaze on Alex - feeding him with information: Name- Alexander Pendergast; Age- 36; Classification- Human; Occupation- Butler. In seconds, an archived image of the butler’s physique replaced it all, including small notations on height and weight. His vision zoomed in on Alex’s face, enlarging the delicate features; strange that someone so good-looking chose a career in domestic servitude rather than something more extravagant like theater or dance. Points of light appeared and mapped out Alex's facial structure, comparing it to the image on file. A conclusion flashed at the bottom: MATCH.

Zedd’s gaze lingered a moment longer before he crossed the pristine lawn.

“If it survives Quentin, then it will be.” Approaching the table, he briefly scanned its contents and read the ingredients used to create the spread. “Well, this is nice, Pendergast. Thank you.”

Bloody smirked as she heard the doctor's voice over the phone. She was always one to be quick to answer the phone. "It's Bloody Rose Doc. I got a job for you. Looks to be pretty easy. Feel like picking it up?" Bloody asked as she gave out a few details of the newest job that she had been given. She wondered if she would take it. Bloody thought that a woman was best suited for this one. Not her though, she'd just end up killing the target just because. The doc had more solid judgement than she did when it came to matters such as these.

With a brusque motion, the Gardener removed his gloves, revealing the cold black exoskeleton of his hands, and traded it for the towel. Pressing the damp towel against his cheek, Zedd let the coolness seep into his skin as he breathed in the calm scent of lavender wafting from its fibers. After the towel had graced every bit of exposed skin on his face, he folded it and handed it back to Alex. Only then did he notice the other man standing in the garden.

There was no need to search a database for information, no need to scan his physique and match it to an image from the archive; Zedd only had to call upon memory. In spite of the calm demeanor he exuded, the man carried himself with an air of quiet respect, matched only by the tailored suit he wore. Faint lines were etched into the man’s chocolate‐colored skin, around the mouth and beneath the eyes ‐ suggesting a number that truly couldn’t be his age. Behind a pair of thin wire‐framed glasses, dark deep set eyes penetrated the dark tint of Zedd’s goggles with a stare that saw not the Gardener standing before him, but for who he really was. Zedd had known this man for most of his life.

Full lips spreading into a gentle smile, the man removed his bowler hat and acknowledged the Gardener with a slight bow.

“Pendergast, please prepare a second table setting.” Zedd eased himself into the chair. “It seems I have company.”

::::::::::

“Petra, I’m not really in the mood. We should get to the shoppe. We’ll be in the thick of it in a few hours”

“All the more reason to, Marie.” The assistant florist’s tone was firm as she looked at the young woman seated beside her. Outside, sunrise filtered through the carriage window, splattering a kaleidoscope of dawn onto them both. “Get you loosened up for the big events. Besides, after yesterday I really think you need it; I thought you were going to have aneurysm after our last client.”

Marie groaned. With summer being peak season for weddings, she would gladly trade her position as head florist at The Ivory Dahlia for something less stressful - like staring at the sun, for instance. One bride wanted her entire reception to be held beneath a canopy of Dancing Lady Orchids; another decided, at the last minute, that she didn’t want Chrysanthemums and wanted to trade it all for African Lilies after Marie and her team had just finished the setup; and finally, her last client went bridezilla on the whole delivery after an argument with her future mother‐in‐law (not single Sunflower was spared). Why didn’t she just listen to her mother and take up secretarial work?

The bumpy carriage ride came to an abrupt stop.

“We’re here!” Petra’s eyes lit up as the carriage door popped opened. There to assist them both was an android created to look like a large mouse dressed in traveling coat and top hat; it’s wiry whiskers twitched with delight as it helped them both out of the carriage. Petra slipped a few coins into a slot where its breast pocket should be, then took Marie by the arm. “I hear this is the hottest place in the city!”

“Wouldn’t it be ‐ I don’t know ‐ normal to come here after work?” Marie glanced up the elegant wording on the sign over the bar’s entrance: The Wild Rose. "I mean, who drinks before eight in the morning?”

“We do. Now, come on and live a little, Marie!” Petra’s gleeful expression melted, her eyes growing wide and hopeful. Her lower lip quivered. “Please?”

A sigh escaped Marie’s lips. “Fine. Just one drink.”

Petra giggled and hurried for the entrance, trailing the head florist after her.

After checking in their coats, Marie was sure that they should’ve come to the bar after work; all the tasteful décor seemed wasted on the morning hours with barely a soul there to appreciate it all. She took the seat beside Petra at the bar. The bartender sidled over to them, unsurprised to see a pair of women at his counter so early in the morning.

“What can I get you ladies?”

Before Petra could speak, Marie cut in. “Whiskey no ice, and make it a double.”

“I’ll have what she’s having,” Petra chimed in. The bartender nodded before turning away to fulfill their orders. Grinning, she nudged Marie. “Alright, Ms. Straight and Narrow.”

“Well, it’s like you said.” Maria gazed at her reflection in the mirrored wall behind the counter and brushed a lock of stray hair back into place. “We have a long day ahead of us.”

Alex pulled out the table’s second chair and quickly brushed off the flower petals and leaves. He stepped back, and bowed, gesturing for Zedd’s guest to take a seat before returning to the house. After making a second omelet, placing two scones on another small plate and, grabbing additional cutlery, a napkin, a saucer, and a cup (this time finely printed China with a handle), he retrieved a fresh towel and carried the loaded tray back to the garden. Placing the second set of breakfast dishes on the table, he shifted the jam closer to the center, and once again carefully poured the tea using the strainer. Alex then offered the moist towel.

“Is there anything else I can get for you, sirs?”



After placing the last piece of paper aside, Zen got to his feet, parted a pair of blinds with his fingers, and gazed out of the window at the street below. The street rapidly became filled with carriages and pedestrians as the morning waned. With any luck a few of those pedestrians would enter the bar to carry it over to the evening. Allowing the blinds to fall back in place, Zen then left his office and headed back downstairs. He immediately spotted the two women at the bar.

“How is it that two beautiful ladies, such as yourselves, can put my bar to shame?” he inquired after approaching them. “May I join you?”



Rose glanced at the grandfather clock on the other side of the elegantly decorated living room. A few stray thoughts about how to handle the assignment flickered through her head; however, it was better to get the finer details before deciding on anything.

“I’ve got a couple more patients to see, but I’ll be at the tower later this afternoon. Say, around one o’clock?” she proposed.

Zedd shook his head. "That'll be all for now, Pendergast."

“This really isn't necessary, Master Zedd.” Beneath the gruffness in the other man’s voice lay familiar warmth as he took the seat opposite of the Gardener.

“Nonsense.” Zedd paused a moment to savor the tea's delicate fruity flavor before taking up his utensils. “You’d be insulting Pendergast, here, if you didn’t. You of all people should know about that.”

“Yes, of course.” The other man acknowledged Alex’s hard work with a nod, took the moistened towel, and returned it as soon as he'd finished with it. “Thank you for the meal, Mr. Pendergast.” Taking up his own flatware, he sampled a piece of the omelet and his eyes lit up with an approving smile. “Superb.”

Zedd neither agreed or disagreed, and simply gestured toward the other dishes laid out before them. “Then by all means – don’t hold back and help yourself.”

The two men ate in silence, both savoring the delicious flavors to grace their palettes and appreciating the view of the garden. Up until that moment, Zedd spent his meals alone, with the exception of Alex standing close by should he need anything. Twelve years of solitude, and he never really saw the need for company; in fact, it was akin to bliss. However, with the arrival of his recent guest came the bittersweet air of nostalgia. The Gardener silently admitted that it was good to see the man in the gray suit again; he just couldn’t say the same about all the memories his presence seemed to dredge up, no matter how indirect.

The other man already tucked half his meal away when he finally spoke again.

“I hope you don't mind that I let myself in.”

“I’ve yet to see a door actually try to keep you out, Archie. Why would I mind?”

Archie gave a quiet chuckle, making no attempt to deny the implication.

“It’s just occurred to me that I’ve been rude.” Zedd said this as a statement of fact rather than sudden realization.

This time, Archie couldn’t help but laugh. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

Instead of questioning Archie who he could possibly mean, the Gardener drew a small, silver case from his pocket and started assembling its contents. “Pendergast, this is my… affiliate’s man.”

Shaking his head, Archie set his napkin down and rose to his feet. “That is to say, you and I share a select set of skills, Mr. Pendergast.” He held his hand out to Alex. “Archibald Twitch, butler to your master’s mentor. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”



Marie had been muscling down another gulp of whiskey when she heard the masculine voice followed by Petra’s flirtatious giggle. She turned toward its source and nearly fell off the stool; the head florist couldn't say which was more startling: the man’s height, or the unusual jackal mask concealing his features. She wondered if, somewhere in their rush to get to the bar, they’d failed to notice they’d walked into some sort of theme joint. Another quick glance at the bar’s décor confirmed what she’d seen earlier, and Marie turned her attention on the masked man, again.

It was then she noticed the subtle pearlescent sheen to his hands and neck, giving his skin a smooth, flawless finish. Not a man, an android. Ezra was filled with all sorts of androids, but never had Marie seen an android looking so close to being human; of course, she’d heard of the newest models being incredible replicas of their human counterparts, but she never thought she'd see one up close. Even his mannerisms and voice were nothing short of convincing. The head florist realized she’d been staring too long and too hard that, for once, she was grateful for the liquor-induced blush.

Marie shook her head. “Oh, we really aren’t planning on—“

Petra’s hand shot out and grabbed Marie’s wrist; as she flashed the android a pageant-winning smile, she tightened her grip on Marie. “What my friend means to say is that we’d be delighted if you would join us.”

“Petra”—Marie leaned in close, lowering her voice to a whisper—“we’re only here for one drink.”

“Right”—Petra looked pointedly at the amber liquid still occupying a third of Marie’s glass—“and neither of us are finished yet.” She turned her attention on the masked android, giving him a flirty c**k of her shoulder as she gestured to the empty stool beside her. “Please, do join us.”

“There’s no need, Pendergast…”

Archie took his seat again while Zedd studied the contents of the wooden box; an incomplete kiseru rested between the Gardener’s fingers. “I thought you quit.”

“I traded the harmful element of my habit for a healthier alternative.” After a few seconds, Zedd picked the grapefruit-pink cartridge off the elegant lining and screwed it onto the smoking device.

“Either way, you’re still drawing a foreign agent into your lungs, Zedd. As I understand it, there hasn’t been enough study on--

“I have far more pressing concerns about my present condition, Archie, to conduct my own studies or care about anyone else's. So for now, I'll just take it on blind faith.” With a drum of his robotic fingers to punctuate his statement, Zedd put the kiseru to his lips and drew on it, activating the heating element. The device’s tiny bowl flared a teal-colored glow and a faint crackling filled the silence that settle between the two men; a citrus-scented vapor plume escaped the Gardener’s lips. “Now, why don’t you tell me why you happened to just ‘stroll’ into my garden.”

Archie shook his head.

“It’s always right to business with you.” Sighing, Archie reached into his coat, drew something from the inside pocket, and placed it on the table.

Another plume clouded Zedd’s vision briefly, but when the vapor cleared he saw the dried poppy that lay between them.

“No.”

“It isn’t a summon, Zedd; it’s an invitation.”

“He can dress it up however he wants to, Archie - I am not going back.”

“You should see him. Both of you should.”

Zedd snorted, but Archie continued in spite of his derisive reaction.

“How long has it been since then, Zedd? Twenty years?”

“Nineteen.”

“You two should be working together, again; make the family whole.”

Zedd laughed, amused, but the older butler pressed on.

“Don’t you think this competition has gone on long enough?”

The Gardener's laughter died away instantly. “ ’Competition’?"

Zedd’s expression went cold, his features hardened by the implication that his dual life was somehow spurred on by something as petty as competition. To hear an old friend suggest that his ego dragged him back into the game - well, Archie just couldn't be more wrong. It was more than all that. Much more. The game wasn't about who had the better reputation, the most money, or the better skilled; it was about who was left standing in the end.

"If Bloody thinks that what we have between us is all about competition, that’s her problem.” The Gardener leaned forward, close enough for Archie to see the muscle in his jaw line skip. “What I’m doing right now has nothing to do with her, and I won’t stop until I have seek. As far as family’s concerned, I have all that I need right here. You can pass that on to the old man.”

Zedd got to his feet and started for the garden.

“The cancer’s back, Zedd.”

The news stopped Zedd before he could make it out of the terrace, causing the conservatory's tranquil atmosphere to grow heavy with the weight behind such a simple sentence. Cancer: Zedd’s mentor fought it fiercely until it went into remission a few years ago. Since then, all thoughts of it returning had been buried under his own agenda - until now. He turned toward the table, where Archie now stood.

“The chemo is no longer working, and he refuses to take his medication…” Though the older butler had years to master an impenetrable poker-face, there was no concealing the pain in his eyes. Not today. “H-he's... in a great deal of pain, and now it’s only a matter of time. Levi didn’t send me, Zedd; I came on my own volition, to fix what was broken all those years ago. And I can’t do it alone.”

Zedd said nothing.

“I’m off to the city right now, to find Bloody and tell her the news.” Archie gestured toward the poppy with his bowler hat. “I don’t expect you to answer right away, but just know your father doesn’t have very long.” He turned toward Alex. “I’m terribly sorry that you had to bear witness to such personal matters, Mr. Pendergast. Thank you for the meal, again.”

With a slight bow, Archibald Twitch placed the bowler back on his head and made his way out of the garden.

Zedd remained where he was, quiet and still, not caring to see if Archie had completely gone. A low roaring filled his ears, and the information feed had been streaming suddenly went still. That moment, he was so rigid that taking in a single breathe might shatter him.



Petra giggled at the android’s charming manner, too preoccupied to notice Marie rolling her eyes.

“The name's Petra, and my stuffy friend, here, is Marie.”

Marie brought the glass to her lips: “Who also happens to have seniority over you.” She muscled down another gulp, shutting her eyes and bearing the burning sensation in the back of her throat.

“Seniority between you and me doesn't exist outside of the shoppe, dear. And it just so happens we aren't in the shoppe.”