Mr. Robot
Set after season 2
Pairing: Dominique Dipierro, Angela Moss
First Fic, English not mother tongue, just a trial run, just because there was no fic about these two!
"Alexa, call Wu's"
Dom had not eaten all day and could have gone without food even longer, but her conscience, in the shape of Santiago and his taunting glances, made her leave the office and go home. She ordered the usual and undressed to step into the shower. When she caught her own reflection in the mirror, she suddenly snapped out of her everlasting thoughts about the case and grew conscious of herself and the present - the right here, the right now. It was an odd sensation, confusing and overwhelming. She made a face at herself and shook her ginger locks to rid the unwelcome feeling.
The shampoo was foaming and coronated her head and she had just gone back to contemplating all the details of the case, when the door bell rang. Wu was fast, she noted annoyed, wrapped a towel around her dripping body and tipptoed, cursing - to the door to hit the buzzer. While waiting for the delivery guy to climb the stairs she hurried back to the bathroom to put on a shirt and a pair of jeans. The fabric of the T-shirt soaked up the water and clung to her bare skin. Still cussing, she went to open the door.
"Did you beam yourself over h- .." she stopped mid-sentence, dazed by the sight of the figure standing at her door in front of her. Big blue eyes stared back at her and for a moment neither of them said a word. Dom looked her opposite up and down and tried to make sense of the image the open door revealed to her. Angela Moss tried to appear composed, her chin up high, her posture upright, but her eyes were gleaming and her voice cracked when she finally spoke. "I didn't know where else to go" she said and, overcome by embarrassment, worry and pain - or was it fear - she turned away and looked to the ground. Dom, still baffled by her appearing and even more by her appearance noticed Angela was slightly starting to shake and finally stepped aside to let her in.
By the time the detective had offered her visitor to sit down and a drink of water, she knew something really bad must have happened. The blonde young woman sat stiffly on the edge of her couch and stared into blankness, crying silently, motionlessly. The sight of the helpless girl sitting on her couch stirred her insides and even though she knew Angela was a witness, or even a suspect in the case, she felt the need to console and protect her.
She sat down beside Angela and handed her the glass of water she had got in the kitchen. Angela took it but just kept it in her hand without drinking. Carefully Dom tried to get through to the apathetic woman next to her. "You wanna tell me what happened?" she asked softly, trying to catch Angela's gaze.
After what felt like an eternity of silence, when Dom didn't even expect an answer anymore, Angela slowly turned her head, locked her eyes onto hers and said tonelessly: "He's not gonna make it". As if awakened by her own voice and the sentence she had just uttered she seemed to realize the devastating truth of her own words. Her eyes grew even larger, her face turned into a grimace of agony and she doubled over in pain, forgetting herself, her posture, who she was supposed to be. She started to sob uncontrollably, barely able to breathe. Dom did not know what else to do than to let her instincts take over. So she pulled the woman into her arms and stroked her back over and over again making calming sounds and whispering calming words. "Shhhh…shhh….it's gonna be alright, you're gonna be alright". Angela now was limp and heavy in her arms, letting go of all her weight, wanting - needing the comfort of Dom's embrace. Dom's already wet shirt grew wetter, where Angela cried on it. But her sobs eventually, slowly subsided.
Before she heard them, she felt Angela's words warm against her collarbone. "I'm sorry", she merely whispered. "I'm so sorry".
That was all. She did not say more. Not even later, when she had calmed down and sat back, exhausted and drained from crying, from her pain and her sorrow. She drank the whiskey, Dom offered her and she took the blanket Dom offered her. She took the shelter Dom offered her and she took the time, space and care Dom offered her.
Her patience really was put to the test that night. The urge of finding out what the hell was going on almost made her go insane. But something told her to stay calm and wait for things to fall into pieces. And it felt strangely good to - for once - not be the analytic, fact-driven, sassy FBI agent, but a human being who was helping out another human being. At least until she would be able to figure the whole mess out.
Not being used to being surrounded and confronted by such an amount and intensity of emotions, she felt drained herself. She had one last sip of whiskey, took one last glance at the sleeping woman on her couch and then went to sleep herself. Before the whiskey and the exhaustion turned the events of the day into a soup of thoughts and pictures, she suddenly realized that Wu never delivered the food that she had ordered. Too sleepy to wonder enough to stay awake, she drifted off into dreamless sleep.