Author's Notes: Hiya everyone! I know it's been awhile since I've written anything new. The fact is I have been really busy writing, just not stuff that can be posted here. Now I'm giving myself a little present and letting myself write Escaflowne fanfiction for awhile. This is a little different than what I normally do, but very fun. I promise. Please enjoy!

Rose Red: Model 85001

Chapter One

"Hi, sorry I'm late. My last client has visited our showroom five times and he still can't make up his mind."

Van smiled and pretended that he didn't mind waiting for the client coordinator. He wasn't normally an impatient guy, but the waiting room at Sleeping Beauty Inc. creeped him out. It was decorated in pink and metallic silver, and made him feel like he was waiting to take a tour of the Barbie factory. It was too bad he couldn't afford to go to a nicer place, so what else could he do besides wait patiently?

The client coordinator made friendly chit-chat as she ushered him past the reception desk and into a private office. She wasn't a bad looking woman, except that she was probably old enough to be his mother – like all the other women he knew.

"All right," she said, seating him and taking her place on the other side of the desk. "Let's just go over your specifications, shall we?"

Van nodded and tried to make himself even just a smidgen less uncomfortable. After all, he wasn't in the absurd waiting room anymore.

The client coordinator reminded him that their consultation was completely confidential and got started. "So, let's go over each category starting at the top." She pushed a copy of his application form towards him and pointed to the first category – beauty. "I noticed you didn't mark down a preference. Let me fill you in about each style. First there's Snow White—"

"I get it," Van interrupted. "I didn't put anything down, because I don't care about what she looks like. All the girls have to be presentable in order to get a contract with you, don't they?"

"Of course," the coordinator said without skipping a beat. "I can set up your selection to be random if you'd like. Usually it's the most important feature for our clients."

"The girls aren't robots, are they? I was under the impression that they were real girls that you chose to describe with fairytale names depending on their colouring."

"Yes, that's all true. Then let's move onto the second category – Model. This refers to their best functionality."

Van's eyes ran down the list; Diva, Creative Princess, Domestic Goddess, Queen Rose, and Enchantress. His mouth practically filled with tar as he read the titles. Why couldn't he have afforded a less cheesy agency?

"I wondered if you didn't understand the titles."

"Because I chose Domestic Goddess?"

"Yeah," the coordinator stammered. "It's just no one chooses that one and the others aren't very descriptive." Then she launched into a description of each title. "The Diva is the kind of woman who looks great on any man's arm. She's always the pinnacle of fashion and style—"

Van interrupted again. "I read the small print. I don't have any need for a woman who has to be the pinnacle of fashion. I don't need an artist, or a gardener, or a five star chef. I just want someone who can be more like a personal assistant and do a little of everything."

The coordinator winked at him. "I see what you mean," she said with a little smile. "Now age? You marked under twenty-five and that seems perfect for you. You're what?"

"Twenty six."

"Gorgeous. Lastly, if there are any special skills you'd like in a model, you can choose from this list."

Van just about lost it. As if this wasn't already embarrassing enough. "Can we skip all that and just get to the price?"

"Certainly," she said, moving the paper out of his way. At that second she understood that Van wasn't going to be able to buy a nice model, but that didn't seem to bother her any and her attitude didn't change for the worse. "Our lowest price bracket is between $250,000 and $280,000. Let me just check to see how many Domestic Goddesses we have in that price range."

Van scratched his forearm. He couldn't really afford this.

"There are three, but if you're willing to go up to age 28, I can offer you two more to look at. Do you want to do that?"

"Sure."

The client coordinator got up from her chair and led Van back through the offices to a showroom that looked exactly like a warehouse, except that the metal brackets were painted pink. The floor was bare cement and the ceiling went up forever.

"The first one is part of our Thumbelina line."

"Thumbelina?"

"They're girls under five feet tall."

Van didn't know how to answer that. He didn't have a complex about his height.

The client coordinator stopped at one pink crate and pulled loose one long rectangular box. The top was glass and the girl was asleep inside. Van peered in - taking note of the strange tubes that entered the box on the other side. She was in cryostasis.

"She looks like she's twelve."

"She's actually twenty six. Some men just really like being with a woman that is definitely shorter than he is. I didn't think the Thumbelina line was for you, but I thought I'd offer anyway - just in case it was love-at-first-sight." She moved the box back into place and started them off down the aisle. "The next one is a Repunzel."

"Does that mean she has hair from here to oblivion?"

"Yes. Those girls pride themselves on their hair. The price for this one is actually below the price bracket I mentioned."

"Why?"

The woman pulled out the box and Van saw why.

"She has beautiful hair," Van remarked timidly and the coordinator slammed it shut with a bang.

"The next one is a Rose Red."

"You don't sound very enthusiastic," Van remarked.

"Well, I'm not. This one is twenty seven. She also costs less than the minimum fee."

"Why?"

"Her memory has been tampered with. She doesn't remember the last two years and she's been here for three."

"How does that work?"

The coordinator sighed. "Time stops once we put the girls in cryostasis, so they don't age. Good models are only here for a few months before they're picked up. This girl has been here three years. The price keeps dropping because it's more like she's been here for five years, since she doesn't remember two years before she got here."

"How much are you charging for her?"

She stared. "After this one, I've got two models left to show you that are in perfectly good condition. I'm sure one of them will suit you."

"How much?"

"Two hundred thousand."

Van nearly choked. "For a year?"

"No. That's how much we'd want for a lifetime investment."

Van couldn't believe his ears. No woman sold for that little. There had to be more wrong with her than memory loss.

The coordinator pulled out the box and showed him the Rose Red. Van was pleasantly surprised. She had shiny light brown hair as long as the Repunzel.

"Is her hair so long because she's been in here for three years?"

"Yes."

"Why not switch her category? She has beautiful hair. She might sell faster."

"It wouldn't make any difference. Her memory is bad."

She moved to close it, but Van held it open so he could look at her a little longer. Like the other girls, her makeup was flawless and her lips painted a perfect raspberry.

"She's lovely. What else is wrong with her?"

The coordinator rolled her eyes and sighed. "You shouldn't do this just because she's a good price. She could have been involved in anything in those two years she doesn't remember – crime, drug wars - anything."

"What's going to happen to her if she isn't bought?" Van asked.

"We don't keep anyone longer than three years and in three weeks, it'll be her anniversary. Basically, it's not cheap to keep these girls like this. She'll have to work here until she pays off the cost of keeping her asleep for all that time."

"So, she'll be doing makeup?"

"Probably not. The staff members who do make-up are highly paid professionals who are worth every cent. Let me show you the other two." She pushed the box in and took him down another stretch.

Van turned around to get the number on the Rose Red's box. It was 85001.

When they arrived at the next one, the coordinator said, "This one is a genuine Sleeping Beauty."

Van stared. "How old is she?"

"Seventeen, but gorgeous, isn't she?"

She was, but something didn't sit right. She was nine years younger than him.

"Show me the last one."

"It's a Snow White."

Van stared at the Snow White. There was nothing wrong with her. She was twenty two and pretty. The chart said she was excellent at everything she tried to do. She was two hundred and seventy five thousand dollars. That woman took him to the only reasonable choice last.

"I'll let you think about it," she said, as she left him to look at the sleeping girl.

Van didn't know what to do. He couldn't actually afford the Snow White. She was perfect, but if he bought her, he wouldn't be able to even buy food without taking out loans and driving himself crazy. Besides, the two hundred and seventy five thousand only bought her for a year. After that, he wouldn't be able to buy another girl for two more years.

He closed the box and the client coordinator came rushing up.

"Can I do up the papers?"

"Sure," he said, trying to sound cool about his choice. "I'll take the Rose Red."

The woman frowned. "You shouldn't do that. There's a no-return policy attached to her."

"But I'm going to. I like lost causes." His voice sounded cool, but inside he knew he was a loser. He just couldn't stand to live alone anymore.

The look the client coordinator gave him was unusual. He couldn't tell if she was pleased with his choice or disgusted. She led him back to her office with a quick step and gave him the papers to sign.

Sleeping Beauty Inc. disclosed all of the Rose Red's personal information since he was buying a lifetime investment in her. Of course her name wasn't really Rose Red. That was just from the fairy tale. Her real name was Hitomi. Van decided to call her Hitomi-Rose. He signed for her to be delivered to his home in two weeks. That wasn't the normal chain of events after a purchase. This fairytale place liked their customers to wake their product with a kiss, but Van asked her to be delivered. He had a deadline just before her arrival date. If he used her as a carrot, he should be able to get more work done.

Just before he signed the final releases, the coordinator put her hand over the dotted line. "Are you sure you want to do this? You're a good looking man. Can't you find a date on your own? I'm sure lots of normal girls would love to be with you."

He answered by pointing to the address Hitomi was being shipped to.

The coordinator looked at it and frowned deeply. "Then I guess it can't be helped."

They both knew that no woman would go there voluntarily.

"I'm only raising these concerns because you seem like a nice guy. You have honest eyes and a gentle expression. You even seem embarrassed to be in a place like this. It's just a shame that you won't go with the Snow White."

"She'd come back screaming after the year was up. Not everyone can live happily up there. The weather's not bad. It's the isolation that gets me."

"Yeah. Well, you said you didn't want a woman who was the pinnacle of fashion. Well, just between you and me – you aren't getting one."

"I understand. It's fine."