WE WEAR THE MASK
This is what a typical day at the Doll House looks like from Boyd's point of view. I do not own these wonderful characters or Joss Whedon's amazing talent. Please comment nicely!
Adele DeWitt called her top handler over to her. "Now Boyd, when Echo goes out tonight, I want you to take very good care of her."
The tall, strong, light-skinned black man grimaced inwardly, hating the haughty, aristocratic mannerisms of his stuck-up boss. But he masked his true feelings with practiced ease.
"I'll take good care of Echo, ma'am. Just like old Uncle Tom took care of Little Eva."
"Thanks ever so much." Beautiful, English Adele didn't quite catch the literary reference. Didn't sense any real danger. With a toss of her perfectly coiffed auburn hair, the sexy, coolly stunning manager of the Doll House walked away.
"With torn and bleeding hearts we smile," the black man muttered, eyeballing the English lady's exquisite rear view.
"What's that, Boyd?" Topher Brink shambled up with the usual goofy grin on his narrow face, his blonde mop rumpled as though he had gone days without combing or washing his hair. Being Adele's pet, and a top programmer to boot, the basic rules of workplace grooming didn't apply to him.
"Nothing," Boyd replied. "Do you have the details on Echo's newest assignment?"
"Uh, yeah. Some rich white guy wants to screw her. You're supposed to watch from a distance while it happens."
"Is that all?" Boyd asked. "Shouldn't I wash little Missy's underpants after it's over?"
"That's my job," Topher grinned, but the look on the tougher, older man's face made the young whiz-kid change his tune. "Hey, you know, Adele doesn't single you out for these jobs because you're black. It's because she has such great respect for your strength of character."
"Really?" Boyd asked.
"Oh, yeah. She genuinely admires your self-control." The white boy grinned. "Naw, man, I'm just shitting you. It's because you're black."
Late that night, as they were driving back from the job, Boyd and Echo got ambushed by a rogue active named Alpha and his horribly scarred half-human henchmen. There was a lot of fighting, and Boyd couldn't use his firearm for fear of hitting Echo in the confusion. Both of them got banged up and even a little bloody, but the pretty little active really seemed to enjoy herself.
"Isn't it funny," she asked afterward, biting into a huge double cheeseburger at the In-N-Out, "how a fight like that always makes you hungry and horny?" Her brown eyes sparkled as she looked up at her strong black guardian.
"That's just your latest imprint talking," Boyd grumbled. For a moment pure temptation mixed with hatred of the Doll House warred with his own personal sense of what was right. "Protecting you is my job, Echo. I would never take advantage of that."
"Oh yeah," the sexy teenager grinned. "First word: jail. Second word: bait."
Boyd was shook. But he covered it with a gruff little laugh. "Exactly. Now finish up that juicy burger."
Adele DeWitt was waiting up when the two of them got back to the Doll House, late and tired and covered with cuts and bruises. The autocratic Englishwoman was plainly furious with both of them. But only Boyd was held accountable. After receiving the very best medical care from Dr. Saunders, Echo got to skip right off to her "treatment," a total memory wipe, and then to a hot bath and a soft bed.
"I have a feeling Echo is developing more and more of her own personality." Boyd sat up straight in Adele's private office, holding her emerald gaze as he told the story of the fight. "Tonight she was tough. Sexy. Like a girl of the streets. I think she's slowly developing a genuine personality through a growth process Topher can't control."
"Excuses," Adele DeWitt said crisply. The sexy boss lady leaned back behind her desk, looking unbelievably aristocratic and elegant. "You're giving me excuses for why the fight took place tonight. The two of you could have evaded Alpha and his minions in your car if you so desired."
"Don't try to tell me my business, ma'am. Car chases draw police attention. Remember, I'm prior law enforcement."
Adele waved this aside. "The truth is, Mr. Langton, it wasn't Echo's buried rage that took control tonight. It was yours."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," the black man said stiffly.
"Quite right," his boss agreed. "We have our pride. Why should the world be over-wise, in counting all our tears and sighs? Let them only see us while we wear the mask."
Before Boyd could think of a reply, Adele rose from behind her desk. With a look of cool indifference, she came around to where he sat, his body rigid and his face expressionless.
"You could kill me right this minute if you wanted to." Her slim white hand rested on his shoulder. "You could bring this house down like Sampson pulling down the temple. Instead you serve us, and you wear the mask."
"We wear the mask." Boyd looked up at the cold-seeming Englishwoman whose face was as unreadable as his own.
Slowly he reached up, and began unbuttoning her blouse.
A/N: For those who don't know, here is the original poem that inspired this story, written over 100 years ago by the great African-American poet Paul Laurence Dunbar. (It's in the public domain and available online.)
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us while
We wear the mask.
We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!