Take One For The Team

by rogoblue

The Dollhouses come under attack and Adelle DeWitt and company must find a way to defend themselves. In this version of reality, Ms. Lonely Hearts is not merely a front for Ms. DeWitt. Having said that I suppose you could still think of her as an actre

Story: Taking One For The Team

Rating: M

Author: Rogoblue

Summary: The Dollhouses come under attack and Adelle DeWitt and company must find a way to defend themselves. In this version of reality, Ms. Lonely Hearts is not merely a front for Ms. DeWitt. Having said that I suppose you could still think of her as an actress protecting DeWitt in canon if you'd like.

Spoilers: Minor ones up until Episode 1 x 09 "The Spy in the House of Love." Set after 1 x 06 and before 1 x 09.

Disclaimers: The toys are Joss Whedon's. The idea is mine.

Dedication: To Erica for blazing the trail and keeping the faith. This one (see below) is for you.

Pairing: Echo/Dominic

Adelle DeWitt stood in front of her team—one she'd painstakingly put together over the years. The stranger stood out like a sore thumb. A smiling, bouncing on the balls of his feet, excessively cheerful sore thumb. "Mr. Carstairs," she began.

"Hello, everyone," Carstairs interjected.

Good Lord. Did that imbecile actually wave?

Adelle aimed a small smile at Boyd Langton, deliberately not looking at Laurence Dominic. She didn't need to—the ramrod straight at ease posture masked a distrust of all persons corporate. "Mr. Carstairs has an announcement he wishes to make."

"Yes, indeed." Carstairs straightened his undoubtedly expensive, yet quite hideous tie. "It is my duty to inform you that we—that is to say upper management—have decided to relieve Adelle DeWitt of her duties, pending an inquiry into …" Referring to a small slip of paper, Carstairs continued, "Certain irregularities in the operation of this facility." Gleaming white teeth flared into view and, for a moment, it looked as if Carstairs expected applause. "That's pretty much it."

Dominic was already moving. His gun and identification appeared on her desk. "If you want it in writing," Dominic said, "you'll have it."

Carstairs picked up the identification and smiled at it. "It?" he asked.

Don't Laurence.

"My resignation," Dominic muttered through clenched teeth. Emotion flared in Dominic's expressive eyes but he was back in control before Adelle could be sure of what she'd seen.

Adelle followed his gaze and almost laughed. Carstairs was … Well, there really is no other word for it, is there?

"Mr. Carstairs," Adelle said, "kindly refrain from … fondling that weapon and let's have this over."

Carstairs locked eyes with Dominic. "I'm afraid we can't accept your resignation—in either verbal or written form, Mr. Dominic. We need you to fill Ms. DeWitt's position, at least on an interim basis."

"No."

Grinning, Carstairs closed the distance between him and Dominic. "Under the circumstances, we simply can't take 'No' for an answer."

Adelle was sorely tempted to let this play out. Laurence was at his most dangerous. Expression impassive. Stance deceptively casual. Eyes livid. Stepping to Dominic's side, Adelle took his arm and turned him away from Carstairs.

"Laurence," she said. "I would be comforted to know that I have left all this in your hands and I am supremely confident that you will perform splendidly." Halting to stare into narrowed suspicious eyes, "Particularly if you take to heart the conversation we had this morning."

It was glorious to watch suspicion transform into stunned disbelief. "This morning? The … the 'Would I … with …' one?"

She nodded, not bothering to suppress a mischievous smile.

Dominic shifted to create distance between them. "That discussion was inane."

"As you so astutely pointed out at the time," Adelle countered, closing the distance again. "The question was difficult to answer without context. You now have context."

Dominic glared. Adelle met his gaze. Time seemed to slow down and Adelle's brilliant mind interpreted the succession of expressions that flowed across Dominic's face.

What the fuck is she talking about? How could she let this happen? To her. To me. I can't run this place. I don't want to. No one can make me. How can she look me in the eye and spout off about context with that gun fondling lunatic looking over her shoulder?

"You'll be fine, Laurence." She turned to the others—the handlers, Topher, Dr. Saunders, Dominic's higher ranking security personnel. "You all will. Thank you for your loyalty and your service. It has been my pleasure." Adelle turned on her heel. "Good day, Mr. Carstairs." Without a backward glance, she left her office.

* * *

Someone was talking. Probably the errand boy from corporate. But Laurence Dominic couldn't make sense of the words. Wasn't really trying. Adelle's voice sounded loud and clear in his mind. "Particularly if you take to heart the conversation we had this morning." Those words and that … that … amused, 'Let's see what he does with this mess' expression that followed dominated his thoughts.

"Mr. Dominic?"

Carstairs sounded nervous so Dominic chose to maintain what he thought had to be pretty much a blank stare.

"Laurence?"

Damn. Doctors aren't comfortable with symptoms of shock. Overplayed this one.

"Yeah," he offered.

"Are you all right?"

Taking a deep breath, Dominic considered the scarred face etched with concern. "No."

"It's simple really," Carstairs said. "Nothing to bother yourself about. We need someone to attend the Directors meeting next week, particularly since this is the host city. That is to say, we need a face that the other Directors know and will accept as a peer. Since Adelle has proven unreliable, she will not serve. The other Directors have met you and are aware of your standing in the organization. No one else who ranks high enough meets those criteria, so we truly have no alternative." Carstairs put a hand on Dominic's shoulder. "Surely you see how we must go forward."

Dominic wasn't ready to play along. "Director's meeting?" he muttered, inflection flat and dull.

Carstairs chose to take the deviation from monosyllables as a step forward. "Some boring business to attend to, of course. I have brought the necessary documents so you can familiarize yourself with the issues beforehand." The corporate man glided over to the other side of Adelle's desk, gesturing as though he was presenting lovely parting gifts to a losing game show contestant. "These three boxes will get you up to speed. We've sent over your tux for the opening gala and costume for the—."

Oh for the love of Christ!

"Ok," Dominic interrupted. "Enough." Slowly spinning to face Topher, he said "Ok, I admit it. You had me. You did have me. But a costume party? At a Director's meeting? That just screams you, Topher."

Eyes big and kind of horrified, Topher shook his head. "Not my material, Laurence."

"This is completely on the level, Mr. Dominic," Carstairs nearly sang from right behind him.

Only years of discipline allowed Dominic to quell any reaction except maybe the slightest frown. "It won't work, Carstairs," he said. "I'm not a people person. I can't do the 'Client meet and greet' that Adelle does."

"Did. Or Adelle used to do, if you prefer." Carstairs beamed. "And that, my dear Mr. Dominic, is precisely why we have arranged for an assistant for you." Carstairs looked past Dominic to the door. "Come in, Miss Miranda. It is time to meet your new boss."

Severe business suit draped over her frame, Echo approached briskly on heels that looked dangerously high to Dominic. Someone, probably Topher, choked back a laugh. Several someones, Dr. Saunders undoubtedly among them, gasped.

Can this train wreck get any worse?

"Mr. Dominic," Carstairs slid a hand onto Dominic's shoulder and left it there.

Answer—yes.

"This is Miranda Hayes, your executive assistant."

Hand extended, Echo/Miranda was smiling like she was in on a secret. Mechanically, Dominic shook hands, a sluggish part of his mind noting her firm grip. "Ms. Hayes," he muttered.

"Mr. Dominic. I want to thank you for the opportunity and assure you that I am up to the challenge of this position."

Completely at loss for words, Dominic managed a nod.

Echo/Miranda insinuated herself smoothly between Dominic and Carstairs and stepped forward, forcing Carstairs to retreat. "Mr. Dominic's personal space must be respected at all times." A sunny smile seemed to soften the blow for Carstairs. "The Director's security is paramount."

Dominic smiled at the floor. Almost before he regained control of his expression, Echo/Miranda put three pills in his hand and offered a glass of water.

"Ibuprofen. For the headache," she said.

How in the Hell does she know I have a headache? "Thanks," he mumbled, taking the pills one by one to increase the time in which he could avoid reacting to the newest development.

"All," Carstairs said, "I need a few minutes with your new Director. Thank you for your time, attention and understanding." When the gathered group didn't immediately disperse, Carstairs added, "Shoo," punctuated with a childish move along gesture.

Hostility is running high and, in an interesting development, not in my direction.

"Let's get back to work everyone," Dominic said. The response was immediate and gratifying in that people seemed to get that he's just had this thing dumped on him. "Topher. Langton. Dr. Saunders. If you wouldn't mind waiting, I'd like a word when he's finished."

* * *

"Give us a minute, please, Ms. Hayes."

Something flashed in Echo/Miranda's expression but Dominic couldn't classify it. Her "Yes, sir," was benign enough. He'd have to be satisfied with that for now.

"Topher—."

"Nobody messes with my actives but me!" Topher shouted, tapping himself on his chest with both hands. "Where does that barely evolved simian get off sending one of his guys in here to mess with our Echo? Who knows what crap I'm going to have to clean up in there? Her head was pristine, Laurence. It was a thing of beauty. Now, after some hack's been in? I don't even want to think about it. I just—."

"Wait a minute," Boyd interrupted. "Do you mean to say that we don't know what Echo's imprint actually is?"

"Other than valiant guardian of personal space and dispenser of over the counter medication, no," Topher said, pounding the back of a plush chair with his fist. "They wouldn't let me near the program."

"So …?" Boyd prompted. When Topher didn't take the cue, Boyd said, "So she could do anything, to anyone for any reason. And we have no way to narrow this down?"

Boyd's words resonated with Dominic, engendering a feeling he didn't experience often—fear. "Could …?" Dominic's voice seemed to snag on something. That lump in my throat. "Could you wipe her and start over?" he asked.

"It would be 'risk comma extreme' without the program," Topher admitted. "They said they'd give it to me after the Director's meeting. Speaking of the Director's meeting," he said, eyeing the boxes in the corner of the office. "What's your costume?"

"Don't dignify that with an answer," Dr. Saunders advised. "We need to focus on the pertinent questions, like …" Turning to Dominic, she said, "What about that conversation Adelle mentioned? She'd asked you a question of some sort. Is that relevant at all?"

"Doubt it," Dominic muttered.

"Worth a shot," Boyd said, settling into a chair.

"It was inane. Really." Dominic made eye contact with all three of his chosen advisors. They want to help and they think this will get us there. Perfect.

"All right. You asked for it." For the first time, Dominic retreated behind Adelle's desk and sat down. The chair was a little too low for him but not uncomfortable. "This morning, apropos of nothing, she asked me if I would sleep with Echo."

* * *

THAT MORNING

"Would you sleep with Echo, Mr. Dominic?"

"Excuse me?"

Adelle smiled. "Would you sleep with Echo?"

Deciding she was playing with him, Dominic said, "No. Too skinny."

Sighing, Adelle raised her eyes as though to appeal to the ceiling or to a higher power. "Do you think she's attractive?"

"Echo?"

"Don't be obtuse, Laurence."

"I guess," he offered, moving forward with care. There was something dangerous about this. "That's the point, isn't it? Part of the profile. Physically attractive."

"Indeed."

Her eyes held him motionless. Dominic felt like prey.

"So is there no circumstance under which you believe you would sleep with Echo, Mr. Dominic?" Moving to her liquor cabinet, she asked, "Drink?"

"No."

"That is a reply to which question."

"The latter," he said, feeling a slight smile tug at his lips. "As to the former, I don't know. I mean, am I drunk and is she trying to take advantage of me? And, if so, how drunk am I and how hard is she trying?"

"Continue."

Adelle offered a glass and he automatically took it, surprised to smell single malt scotch. "It's 9:30 in the morning, Ms. DeWitt."

"I am awaiting your elaboration."

"If what you're after is whether I would offer to buy her a drink in a bar, the answer is no."

She frowned and seemed to be considering. "Why ever not?"

"I wasn't kidding about the too skinny. And she's a bit young for my taste. And there is a certain level of ego involvement in the whole thing." Faced with Adelle's silence, he added, "I probably wouldn't ask if I wasn't sure I had at least a 50-50 chance of getting a yes."

"And if you were sufficiently sure?"

Increasingly uncomfortable, he muttered, "Look, maybe. I don't know."

Sitting next to him on the sofa, Adelle asked, "Are there any circumstances in which you would be sure?"

Sensing that there was no escape from the conversation if he couldn't come up with a scenario, Dominic considered. "Well, I guess if she saved me from hungry cannibals, I'd be pretty grateful. And if she indicated that the price for that was sex, I'd do it." He frowned. "I think."

"Interesting." Adelle speared him with the predator look again. "And if she saved you from assassination?"

"Same thing, right? I'd rather be un … ah … un-assassinated as well as uneaten, so …" He shrugged.

"The word 'alive' would cover it nicely, Laurence."

"Ok, so, yeah. Still, she'd have to make the first move. I wouldn't be all 'You saved me from—fill in the blank—and I am ever so grateful and about to swoon any second. You know, like in those trashy books you don't want anyone to know you read."

"Your imagery is delightfully vivid, Mr. Dominic. And the smirk is quite unwarranted."

As a companionable silence stretched, Dominic's amusement faded. "You'd tell someone, wouldn't you?" he asked.

"Hmmm?"

"I mean if someone you knew were in danger of being consumed by cannibals or being assassinated, you'd tell them. Send them a memo with an attention grabbing re line like 'You really ought to read this one because your life is at stake.' Right?"

"Certainly."

* * *

"Funny," Topher offered. "In a warped, disturbing and inappropriate to the workplace kind of way. Still square one with the 'Who is Echo really?' thing, though."

"Coffee is served," Echo/Miranda called as she wheeled a cart into the room. "And scones."

"Scones?" Dr. Saunders asked. "Are those on the approved menu?"

"Not with chocolate chips in them!" Topher announced gleefully, attacking the pastry tray. "Who did you bribe to get these and what did it take?"

Echo/Miranda smiled. "I told the chef that Mr. Dominic was having a bad day. He was very sympathetic. Said chocolate always makes him feel better. So he made these special."

Skeptical but definitely aiming to get his share if Topher hadn't been taken in my some whole grain-carob crap, Dominic started to rise.

"No, no," Echo held out a hand to halt him. "I'll make you a plate, sir."

Sinking back down into his chair, Dominic muttered, "Um … thanks."

"Mr. Brink," Echo/Miranda chided. "Leave a few for the others."

"Ok." Topher's eyes closed in what looked to be bliss.

"Do you want me to leave again, Mr. Dominic," Echo/Miranda asked, a hint of disappointment creeping into her tone.

Dominic looked to Boyd. Boyd nodded.

"Stay," Dominic said. "And … ah … take notes."

Mouth full of scone, Topher asked, "So what's Adelle's 'message'? Anyone? Ideas?"

The pieces tumbled into place for Dominic. Anger came hard on the heels of realization. "Would it kill the woman to once—just one time—simply say—hey, this is what's coming. This is what you'll need to deal with."

"We'll figure it out," Boyd promised. "And we'll deal with it."

"I already have," Dominic said, heart pounding, palms beginning to sweat. "She gave me the context of this whole clusterfuck."

Topher shared a 'He's lost grip' look with Boyd.

"Assassination," Dr. Saunders murmured, concern in every syllable.

"Memo received, Ms. DeWitt," Dominic said. "I get to take one for the team."

* * *

"Are you … ah … all right with this?" Boyd asked. Topher and Dr. Saunders had already left and Boyd was the last one standing in the way of Laurence Dominic—unrepentant disdainer of actives—being alone with his least favorite.

"Do I have a choice?" Dominic asked, unconsciously dropping his picture perfect posture. "Do any of us?"

"I'd like to think so."

"Is there anything else you need, Mr. Langton," Echo/Miranda asked, offering him a slim file folder. "Here's your copy of my notes."

"Thank you, Ec—Miranda." Boyd nodded to Dominic. "I'll check in before I leave and again in the morning."

"All right. Thanks."

Boyd hesitated. "What are you going to do?"

"Now?" Dominic asked. At Boyd's nod, he said, "I should get started on those boxes. It looks like a lot to get through."

And then there were two.

"I could help you, Mr. Dominic," Echo/Miranda offered.

Dominic did his best Adelle DeWitt imitation. "How so, Ms. Hayes?"

She blushed. She actually blushed and ducked her head to avoid looking him in the eye. Dominic waited. Echo/Miranda snuck a peek at him and reddened slightly again. "Call me Miranda, sir. Everyone else does."

"I'll stick with Ms. Hayes for a bit. It seems more appropriate."

"Even when we're alone?"

Especially when we're alone. Christ! Where did that come from? "For now," he replied, trying to muster the energy to both bury the disturbing thought and assail the mountain of work.

"I could get started with those boxes," Echo/Miranda said, moving purposefully about the office. "Read the files. Summarize them for you."

Dominic nodded. "But not yet," he said, jutting his jaw toward the large boxes in the corner. "Let's get it over with. I'd rather not keep wondering how ridiculous I'm going to look in costume."

They stood before the box for a long moment. Dominic sighed. "You open it," he ordered. "And tell me how bad it is," he added, turning his back on the endeavor.

It took longer than Dominic expected for the verdict to be rendered. "Well," Echo/Miranda said, "I'm pleased to report that we are in a quadrant safely between 'Could've been much worse' and 'A tiny bit passé."

Turning, Dominic focused on the cylindrical object in Echo/Miranda's hand. "What's that?"

She smiled. "Your weapon of choice, my master."

What the fuck did she call me? Echo/Miranda placed the cylinder in his palm. Dominic pressed a button and a blade of blue light shot out of the device. "Sweet," he muttered as he moved the light saber through the air. "Sounds right, too." He grinned at Echo/Miranda. "That humming, almost electrical sound."

"Give a man a toy," Echo/Miranda said, a suffering indulgent expression fixed in place.

"Topher will squeal like a girl." Dominic laughed as he continued to feint and parry. "Hold up that file folder."

Shaking her head, Echo/Miranda complied but refused to observe the experiment, fixing her gaze on a potted plant in the corner of the office.

Dominic touched the blade to the file. "Miranda," he said.

"Yes, sir."

"I can light things on fire with this."

Echo/Miranda screamed and dropped the flaming folder onto his desk. Dominic smothered the small flame, chuckling softly. "Wonder what this other button does."

"Mr. Dominic, are you sure you should—?"

"Positive." When Dominic depressed the second button, the light burned green. "Let's see. What can we—? Here we go." He handed Echo/Miranda a ruler.

"How about you hold the ruler?" she suggested weakly.

"Nah." Dominic focused on the ruler, bringing the blade to bear.

"Holy shit!" Miranda shouted.

"Like a knife through butter." Dominic deactivated the light saber. The silence seemed loud.

Echo/Miranda seized the initiative and plucked the weapon from his hand. "Let's put this puppy away for now," she said. She leaned in as she flounced past him. "You called me Miranda."

Reviewing the conversation as he turned to follow her movement, Dominic asked, "I did?"

"You did." She smiled in a way that demanded his full attention. "I liked it."

* * *

"He's not half bad at this," Dr. Saunders noted, watching Laurence Dominic moving along the upper level of the Dollhouse, stopping to talk with personnel of all stripes and, by some fluke of nature, holding a door open for November. Following in his wake was Echo/Miranda doing all those things, large and small, that competent personal assistants do. It was amazing to watch.

"Things are running well," Boyd allowed, nodding to Echo/Miranda as she aimed that 'Aren't we just having a great day' smile at him.

"You wouldn't know to look at him that he's gonna die in a couple of days."

"Topher!"

"Man friend, Dr. Saunders struck me."

"It does show, Topher," Boyd said. "If you look closely enough, you can see the fatigue and strain. Dominic looks exhausted."

"More importantly," Dr. Saunders said, clutching her clipboard to her chest, "he is exhausted. Miranda says he's not sleeping."

"And she knows this, how?" Topher asked, irrepressible impish grin in place. "Give it to me straight. Is Laurence getting more than a light saber out of this deal?"

"Give the light saber thing a rest, will you," Boyd said. "She knows whether he's sleeping or not because she knows how much coffee he's ordered, how many files he's been through, how much time he's logged looking at surveillance footage, and a million other things he's doing that can't leave time for much sleep."

"And it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out he isn't taking the sedative I prescribed. He hasn't broken the seal on the bottle. Someone needs to talk to him." Dr. Saunders rolled her eyes as both men turned to her.

"He'll listen to you," Topher said. "He's used to taking orders from women."

"Fine."

* * *

"Think about it, Laurence," Dr. Saunders said. "That's all I ask. Well, we ask."

"I only have one more day to get ready for … whatever is going down at this Director's meeting," Dominic ruthlessly suppressed a yawn. "I can't spend it sleeping."

Sincerity practically leaking from every pore, she said, "Yes, you can, and it would probably be best if you did."

Dominic tossed his calendar toward Dr. Saunders. "It's wall to wall client meetings."

"Miranda can do those."

"Not on her own. Clients expect me to be there looking … I'm not even sure what exactly."

"Really good in a suit?"

Despite everything, Dominic laughed. "That must be it. Or maybe menacing if we want them to pony up extra for the more extreme sports."

The doctor stood. "Where is Miranda anyway?"

"Procuring lunch," Dominic replied. "She eats constantly. I don't know where she puts it."

The opening door forestalled any dietary commentary by Dr. Saunders.

"Thanks but I don't need any help," Echo/Miranda said in a tone far from the competent professional voice to which Dominic had become accustomed. "Really, David, I can push a meal cart."

"We can't afford for you to injure yourself, darlin'," a young suited man said. "You need to be tip top when you get returned to sender." He cocked his head. "But maybe before then …" David reached across the cart.

Echo/Miranda flinched. Dominic chambered a round. David straightened slowly.

"The way I see it, Mr. Oliver, you have two choices." Moving with deliberation, Dominic approached the open door. "You can apologize to the young lady and report to Ms. Davis or you can take a bullet in your smart mouth. Don't worry … much … about the second option, I've done this before and the doctor is right here. On the other hand, mistakes are made, particularly when a person is tired or extremely annoyed … or both. Your choice."

"But … but sir …" David's eyes slid to Echo/Miranda and he made a 'What's the big deal' gesture.

Eyes cold, Dominic aimed.

"Not Davis, sir, please." David looked like he was going to either cry or soil himself. "I just made strike team three months ago."

"No one on a strike team of mine acts unprofessionally in the House."

Am I channeling Adelle DeWitt or what?

Trembling badly, David mumbled, "I'm sorry."

"What was that, Mr. Oliver?"

"I said I was sorry, sir."

"You aren't apologizing to me."

Eyes wild, David spoke fast. "I said I was sorry to her, sir. To her, not to you, sir. But I am sorry, sir. I am. That … that was my apology to you, sir."

"A word of advice, Mr. Oliver. Don't babble when someone has a weapon aimed at your face." Dominic lowered the gun. "It could make them twitchy. Best to be stoic."

"Stoic, sir. Yes, sir."

"Report to Ms. Davis."

"Yes, sir."

Pitching his voice louder, Dominic said, "Show's over people. Get back to whatever it is you're paid to do."

Echo/Miranda pushed the food cart in and closed the door. "You didn't have to do that, Mr. Dominic," she whispered. "They're just assholes."

"They?"

Tears began to well in Echo/Miranda's eyes.

"No need for that. It ends here if you want it to." Her obvious gratitude made him feel his exhaustion. Dominic slumped in a chair and closed his eyes. "And, you're wrong, I had to do that or something like that. They aren't just assholes. They're undisciplined. We can't tolerate that. There's too much at stake."

* * *

Dominic was having trouble concentrating. His mouth wanted to yawn. His eyes demanded to close. He was so tired he was almost beyond it. Almost.

"Mr. Dominic, are you interested at all in my proposed engagement?"

"Of course," Dominic said, glancing down at his desk under the guise of coughing into his fist. Echo/Miranda was tapping a perfectly manicured fingernail at a name—Eric Milliken. "We highly value your continued patronage, Mr. Milliken."

"Now, how many times do I have to tell you, son," the client drawled, tipping his cowboy hat up slightly. "It's Eric. None of that Mr. stuff."

"All right, Eric." Now what does the cowboy want again? And why can't we give it to him?

"Now as you know, Laurence," Echo/Miranda began smoothly. "Eric was so impressed with November's abilities as a horsewoman that he simply must ride the range with her again. Next Saturday will work beautifully for him. However, November has a previous commitment, sadly not involving horses."

"Don't tell her," Dominic commented, his sluggish brain coming back on line a bit. "She'll be devastated."

"Of course not." Echo/Miranda aimed her 'You are the most important person on the planet' smile at Eric Milliken. "If Eric could see his way clear to schedule for this weekend or even next Friday, we could give everyone exactly what they want. Will you be able to do us this tiny favor, Eric?"

Dominic wanted to applaud. Instead, he dozed while Echo/Miranda worked out the details of the engagement. He was just on the cusp of real sleep when a small hand jostled his shoulder.

"Last one, Laurence. It should be quick. Ms. Lonely Hearts has her ongoing thing with Victor."

"'Kay."

"Sit up straight. No, stand. She'll be here any second." Like a falcon, Echo/Miranda swooped in and straightened his tie. "Stay with me. Don't mumble."

Dominic saluted. Echo/Miranda rolled her eyes.

"Here you go, sweetie." Ms. Lonely Hearts passed to Echo/Miranda the same excruciatingly detailed engagement description as always. "The wire transfer has already gone through. Can we do Thursday? I just adore Thursdays. Not quite the weekend. But poised just on the brink. What fun." Ms. Lonely Hearts turned. "Laurence, a pleasure as always."

Cue script. "The pleasure is mine."

"Oh, thank goodness, you've finally dropped that 'ma'am' business. Made me feel old, that did." Winking at Echo/Miranda, she said, "Never let a man call you ma'am, dear. Not that they would. Not for quite some time. But, still, bear it in mind."

When she turned back to Dominic and drew breath to speak, he beat her to the punch. "Is Victor available on Thursday, Miranda?"

"He is."

Ms. Lonely Hearts clapped and did some dance step that Dominic didn't recognize. "Wonderful," she said. "Would you be an angel, Miranda, and make it official?"

"Certainly." Echo/Miranda drew even with Dominic, her back to Ms. Lonely Hearts. She grinned at him, her eyes laughing.

"Miranda, could you stop just a moment?"

Dominic almost laughed. Echo/Miranda looked as though she suspected that Ms. Lonely Hearts had seen right through her.

"Turn around. Oh, humor me, Miranda, I'm curious about something."

Echo/Miranda turned around and stood next to Dominic. Ms. Lonely Hearts beamed. "Thank you, dear."

Mercifully, Ms. Lonely Hearts lapsed into silence. Dominic tried to look pensive, as if he had weighty matters on his mind. Just a few more minutes and then bedtime. C'mon, Dom, you can do this.

"You look gorgeous together."

Huh? Who you? You who? "Ah … I'm not following," Dominic admitted.

"You and Miranda."

"We're not together."

Ms. Lonely Hearts did that clapping/dance step thing again. What is up with that?

"Of course not, Mr. Dominic. And I don't see Victor every time either."

Dominic risked a scowl and Ms. Lonely Hearts put her hands in front of her mouth as if to catch her shriek of laughter. "Surely, surely, Mr. Dominic, a man as observant as you must be aware of how Miranda looks at you."

"How she …?"

"All the time and with, I might add if I were a gossip, a decided preference for your ass framed by one of those impeccable suits you wear."

Dominic realized his mouth was open. He shut it with a snap.

"You truly haven't noticed, have you?"

He shook his head.

"Oh dear. This is not good. The two of you simply need a little … push. That's it. I know just the thing."

"No pushing," Dominic managed. "There will be no pushing."

"Why not?" Ms. Lonely Hearts' eyes got so wide Dominic thought they were going to fall out of her head. "Am I to understand, Mr. Dominic, that you are also unaware of how you look at Miranda."

"I don't."

"Don't what?"

Feeling something suspiciously like panic, Dominic replied, "Look … at Miranda. Not … not like that."

"Laurence," she began, speaking slowly as if not to spook him further. "You look at her in such a way as to make clear that she is under your protection."

Heart rate slowing marginally, Dominic said, "She should be. She's my employee."

"Well, yes, you protect your employees. But not with an implicit threat of violence." Ms. Lonely Hearts shuddered. "It's intimidating, really."

Switching tactics, Dominic said, "I'm speechless."

"I'll think on this matter, Laurence, and get back to you. I'm sure I can come up with a plan to bring this matter to the proper resolution."

"What matter?" Echo/Miranda asked.

"Never you mind, dear. Mr. Dominic and I have a little secret. Bye now."

Echo/Miranda seemed curious about this, as she was about everything. Dominic kept stock still and hoped. For what, he wasn't entirely sure.

She moved in front of him and crossed her arms over her chest. "So you're keeping secrets from me now?"

Her smile hit Dominic hard. It was knowing, challenging and playful all at once and he didn't know how to react. Echo/Miranda waited, tapping a foot impatiently. Dominic pulled himself together and shrugged. "It's not so much a secret as a fantasy of a client with an overactive imagination. I more or less just listened."

* * *

Miranda breezed into Dominic's office. That he wasn't there surprised her. But she was glad in a way because she'd been put off by the "our little secret" event of the evening before. They were supposed to go off today for the Director's meeting where they might encounter assassins and he was playing stupid games. What on Earth is wrong with men? The Y chromosome is flawed. Terribly flawed.

When Dominic still hadn't showed an hour later, Miranda admitted to being worried. Where has the man hidden himself? Not really having any reason for a stream of consciousness connection between hiding and the room behind the office, Miranda peeked inside. There he is! Oh God, he's adorable when he's asleep. All that tough guy armor peeled away. Leaving … leaving a man who is working too hard and trying to do too much. All while having no small amount of concern for his life.

Sleep, Laurence. I'll take care of things for a while.

* * *

"Show time," Topher announced when Laurence Dominic stalked into view wearing a perfectly fitting black tuxedo. "Geez, does he get to be James Bond too?"

Dr. Saunders and Boyd Langton joined Topher at the railing. "Wow," Dr. Sanders muttered.

"I did not hear that," Topher said.

Dominic glanced at his watch.

"Patience, grasshopper," Topher murmured. "Patience will be rewarded." Topher leaned far over the railing. "Oh man, will patience ever be rewarded."

Boyd smiled. Echo/Miranda was a vision in deep blue.

"Is that amount of cleavage … normal."

Dr. Saunders refused to let Topher disrupt her focus on the floor below.

"Laurence hasn't seen her yet. Oh, man, what do we do if he strokes out?" Topher began to hop from one foot to the other. "Right there on the main floor. The actives will freak."

As Boyd anticipated, Echo/Miranda saw Dominic first and the look he saw flash across her face jolted him. She looked like a cat eyeing a wounded mouse. Confident in her ability to play with her victim.

"C'mon, Laurence, wake up," Topher stage whispered. "No, no, no! Don't talk to that handler. He's just sucking up. You should see though that. He's ruining her entrance, the fiend!"

"Deep breaths, Topher," Dr. Saunders murmured, as Echo/Miranda reached Dominic, stopping beside him, placing a hand on the small of his back. Dominic was ending his conversation and so the moment had arrived. One way or another, money was about to change hands.

* * *

"We should go," Echo/Miranda breathed into Dominic's ear.

"Yeah," he replied without looking her way. "Take it up with Langton, Simm. He'll have some ideas, I'm sure."

"Thank you, Mr. Dominic." Simm looked past Dominic, who was letting Echo/Miranda propel him forward. "Miss … Miss Miranda."

What the fuck is wrong with Simm now? He looks like somebody stuck him with a sharp stick. Oh well, the doctor's here someplace.

"You look nice," Echo/Miranda murmured.

"Thanks." Dominic was focused on the door and the Director's meeting.

"What do you think?"

Sensing that Echo/Miranda had stopped, he did as well. "Hmmm?"

She smiled and did a slow 360 degree turn.

He watched.

"What do you think?" she asked again, suddenly looking a little shy.

"You look … um … you know, I don't think there's a word for how good you look."

That devastating smile slowly lit up her face. Becoming aware of the size and likely composition of the audience, Dominic offered Echo/Miranda his arm and considered it a victory that he made it out the door without embarrassing himself further.

* * *

The moment the limo pulled away from the curb, Echo/Miranda asked, "So what's the plan?"

For you never, ever, ever to wear that dress again. "Plan?" Dominic muttered. "Plan for what?"

Her expression screamed, 'Duh.' "How we identify and stop the assassins, if there are any."

"Well," he began, wondering how difficult this conversation would prove to be. "We won't be doing anything in that regard. I will."

As Echo/Miranda turned to face him, her dress shifted to expose even more skin. "I can help," she said. "I want to help."

"You're going to fall out of that thing if you aren't careful." Her puzzled frown prompted Dominic to specify, "Your dress."

Impatiently tugging the material into an approximation of its original position, Echo/Miranda said, "I'm a good listener. People talk to me and seem comfortable talking around me. I might hear things that could be useful."

"If you hear anything about how we plan to obtain enough organic romaine lettuce to maintain a constant supply of Caesar salads, please spare me the details."

"You don't care about Caesar salad?" Echo/Miranda grinned at him. "That's blasphemy. You aren't a closet cheeseburger and fries man, are you?" She reached out and put a hand atop one of his. "Seriously, Laurence. What's the deal? While we're there, who am I? Just your assistant, following the respectful pace or pace and a half behind? Or are we supposed to be more than that. Friends? Lovers? What will those people expect?"

He couldn't argue that her point was invalid. Ignoring the warmth of her hand, Dominic said, "It's all over the map. Adelle and I have gone as collegues and as more than that, depending. Electra always brings a lover or three. Pieter is more of a bodyguard guy. James brings his wife and three daughters and please, for the love of God, don't get sucked into a conversation about the proper upbringing of girls and the skills necessary for them to properly enter polite society. Hans comes alone. So do Cassandra and Simone. Ramone brings an entire entourage, all of whom he's slept with from time to time. So … no set deal."

Eyes alight with curiosity, Echo/Miranda asked, "Depending on what?"

"What depending on what?"

Echo/Miranda walked her fingers from his hand to his shoulder, smiling. "You said you and Adelle went as collegues or more, depending. Depending on what?"

"The situation."

"What's that mean?"

"Well, if she wanted people to think she was distracted or if she wanted to give someone the brilliant idea that she was vulnerable through someone else, it was more." Echo/Miranda had lost her sunny smile. "What?" he asked.

"I guess I expected you to say it depended on whether you were sleeping together at the time."

A somewhat rueful smile tugged at his lips. "That factor had no bearing at all."

"I don't understand that."

Dominic sighed. "At this type of gathering, Adelle was The House. The House trumps personal preference and just about everything else." Taking a deep breath, he muttered, "I guess that's me now." Suddenly aware that Echo/Miranda was rubbing his shoulder, Dominic added, "I don't like being The House much."

"I think we should be lovers," Echo/Miranda whispered.

Startled, Dominic blurted, "Why?"

Echo/Miranda wrapped her arms around his neck. "Because I want you."

"It … it's not that simple, Miranda."

"Isn't it?" Echo/Miranda slid her leg between his, giving him a view of beautifully filled silk stocking and a hint of garter belt.

He found it difficult to bite out the word, "No," as she slid her thigh along his.

She chuckled softly and stared into his eyes for a long moment. Then she kissed him. Discipline battled need.

"Playing hard to get?" she asked, moving her lips to his throat.

"No."

"Just hard, then. Ok. I can deal."

She was smiling that smile and Dominic knew his discipline tank was nearing empty. "Miranda, Christ, wait." To his mild surprise, she stopped and leaned back slightly. He was breathing like he'd been sprinting for his life and his only consolation was that Echo/Miranda was also. "We go to the reception straight from the car." He laughed. "It'd be nice to have a little dignity. At least at the start."

A melodramatic sigh later, Echo/Miranda said, "All right. All right. You win." Dropping a quick kiss on his cheek, she whispered, "For now." Returning to "her side" of the limo, she smirked. "I still think we should be lovers."

The responsibility of The House loomed large. "We probably should," Dominic admitted, the active-adverse part of his brain screaming in agony. "I've just been put in this position. I won't be expected to have assimilated everything. They'll think I'm even less of a threat if … well, if you keep smiling at me like that. Makes it difficult to breathe."

She crossed her legs. Dominic closed his eyes. "Does this mean you've decided to do something other than wait for a bullet with your name on it?" she asked.

"What?"

"You seemed … resigned to the whole assassination scenario. That assassins would target you and succeed." Echo/Miranda captured him with her eyes. "It was sad."

Dominic looked away. "I'm tired, Miranda. I'm worn out with all the layers of text and subtext. Half truths and bald face lies with the occasional straight answer thrown in for a change of pace. It's exhausting and I guess part of me just wanted to take the way out that presented itself."

"You don't have to die to get out, Laurence. You could resign."

"No, I can't."

"Why the hell not?" She was getting angry. Her color was high and her fists were clenched. "Slavery was abolished a long time ago. Just get out if you're burnt out."

"Miranda, listen. Despite my impulsive attempt to resign, I know that at my level in the organization, there is no getting out, burnt out or not. I know too much." He held up a hand to forestall further comment. "I knew what I was getting into … more or less." Shifting to look out the window, he added, "I made my choice. I have to live with it."

* * *

"Laurence Dominic, you are a sight for sore eyes!"

The obviously fake Italian accent identified the speaker, allowing Dominic to reply without looking away from where a gaggle of Pieter's bodyguards were teaching Echo/Miranda gutter Russian. "Sophia, it's been a while."

"Because you promise to visit but never do." The tall, svelte Director of the Canadian House looked slightly down on him from her heels.

"Why do tall women wear heels all the time?" he asked.

"Why are short women never seen with men under six feet tall?" Sophia countered.

"Touche." Dominic looked at his glass and was mildly surprised it was empty.

Sophia held out a potential replacement.

"I'm not much of a wine drinker."

"Try this. Manual brought it from his personal cellar." Sophia closed her eyes, sighed and slipped her arm around Dominic's waist. "It's exquisite." She shot Dominic a sidelong glance. "Just like your Miranda."

Dominic made what he hoped was a vague, non-committal noise and sipped the wine. "Wow. That is good."

"You don't have to sound so surprised, you know."

"Sorry." Purposefully turning his back on Echo/Miranda, Dominic raised his glass to Sophia.

Tapping his glass with hers, Sophia asked, "Is Miranda an active?" Her eyes widened when Dominic nodded. "Really?" she nearly squeaked.

"You don't have to sound so surprised, you know," he countered, scowling.

"I'm not sorry," Sophia noted with a smile. "It's way past time you let yourself enjoy the job more. Lord knows there's enough stress to it." She bent close and softly asked, "What changed your mind about actives?"

Time to end this line of inquiry. "That dress."

"I can see how that might do it. And I get that it's new and you don't want to talk about it." Sophia glanced over her shoulder. "But you are going to have to talk with me about something because I'm hiding from Francois. Ever since that duel thing, I figure I'm safe with you."

"Duel thing?" Echo/Miranda asked, breezing up to Dominic's other side.

Does the woman have radar for phrases that I'd rather not explain?

Sophia laughed. "Francois fancies himself a fencer."

"He is," Dominic muttered, unsure why he felt the need to clarify that. Must be some women v. men thing.

"Well, yes, he is, I suppose. But he is also a braggart with an inflated opinion of himself. A couple of years ago, he issued an open challenge to anyone present." Sophia relinquished Dominic's waist with a wink at Miranda. "Adelle convinced Dominic to smack Francois down before someone with something to prove actually hurt him."

"You fence?" Echo/Miranda asked. "Like, with a mask and skinny sword and all that?"

"A little. I picked it up when I was recovering from … ah … an injury."

"Like pulling teeth," Sophia sighed, lapsing into her bad Italian accent again. "Good luck with ferreting out any details about Laurence's life. He's very private." Grinning, she added, "Although you look like you have ways of making a man talk."

"Whenever you ladies are done discussing me as though I'm not here, I'd be interested to know if there's any truth to the rumors I'm hearing about trouble at this meeting."

Sophia immediately sobered and scanned the area to see who was nearby. "Talk to Simone, Dominic. I think she knows something definite. Most of the rest of us are jumping at shadows." Rubbing her arms as though she was cold, Sophia said, "Something is happening. I had hoped Adelle knew what." Sophia groaned when Dominic failed to react. "She didn't. Shit!"

"If she did, she didn't share with me," Dominic said.

"Then she didn't know."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Dominic muttered, feeling the beginnings of another headache. "She plays the game on more levels than anyone." A bitter laugh escaped. "Has more pieces on the board than anyone other than Rupert, I'd guess."

"Simone. Talk to Simone, Laurence, and tell me what you find out."

"Why don't you talk to her yourself? Why haven't you?"

Tossing her long hair over her shoulder, Sophia replied, "I'm too low level a player. I'm no use to her." Clasping his forearm briefly, Sophia said, "Step carefully, Laurence."

"Damn," Dominic muttered. Echo/Miranda's expectant expression called to his stubborn streak. "Let's get something to eat, Miranda. I need to think about this."

* * *

After their plates were cleared, Laurence Dominic frowned into his wine glass for a time too long for Echo/Miranda's liking. "What do we do now?" she asked.

Dominic blinked and did a quick scan of the room. "I'm going to speak to Simone." Glancing sidelong at Echo/Miranda, he added, "You are going to stay here, look as innocent as you possibly can and watch to see if anyone takes an interest in that conversation."

"Which one is Simone?" Echo/Miranda asked.

"Blonde, perpetual sunglasses, black dress with red on the sleeves." Dominic stood and shrugged to shift his jacket into proper alignment on his shoulders.

"She looks kind of scary."

"She is."

Echo/Miranda looked up at him with wide eyes. "Don't turn your back on her, Laurence."

"Never do." Fixing a slight smirk on his face, Dominic strode across the banquet room toward Simone who was holding court with Pieter and Rupert. No. Not holding court. Arrayed in a defensive triangle, staring at everyone else with suspicion.

"Dominic," Rupert said, extending a hand.

Dominic shook it. "Rupert. Simone, could I have a word?"

"DeWitt send a message?" Pieter asked, a sneer slipping across his Eastern European visage.

Catching himself waiting for Pieter to append a less veiled insult to his question, Dominic took Simone by the elbow and silently admitted relief when she allowed herself to be steered away from the others far enough for private conversation. "What's going on, Simone?"

"Other than Adelle opting to save her own skin?"

Into the character he'd chosen to play, Dominic showed surprise. "She was dismissed by a guy named Carstairs."

Simone waved to someone behind Dominic. "She arranged to be, yes." Smiling too sweetly to be genuine, she added, "And here you are. Not in the loop, a bit out of your league and more than a little distracted by your pretty active. Harmless." She laughed. "That's why I know our traitor is a man. No woman would ever be foolish enough to consider you harmless."

Traitor? "Harmless flies beneath most radar," Dominic observed.

"Exactly." Leaning close, Simone nearly whispered, "You have 24 hours to identify which of us is selling out the rest and to whom we are to be sold. Maybe less." She smiled up at Dominic. "It would be nice to know what technology is to change hands as well but don't overtax yourself on that score."

"Is that all?"

"Sarcasm doesn't become you, Laurence and if you think I enjoy relying on anyone of Adelle's to pull this off, think again." She looked sharply to her left and sipped her white wine. "The clock is ticking but don't forget to take the time necessary to maintain the harmless facade."

Dominic headed straight back to Echo and was forced to acknowledge the difficulty of thinking hard without appearing to do so. "Well?" he demanded, more harshly than he'd intended. "Anyone seem to care that I talked to Simone?"

She shrugged. "The blonde guy who was with her and all of his bodyguards glared in your general direction. That Canadian woman was watching too. The guy standing in the corner next to the fichus looked fidgety."

Casually taking a look in the direction Echo/Miranda indicated with a slight nod of her head, Dominic said, "Francois."

"The fencer?"

"In the flesh. Anyone else?"

"A couple of the younger guys orbiting the short chubby man with the cigar and nasally voice."

That could describe only one Director. "Damien."

"There was no one else who stood out, Laurence."

Mindful of the harmless meter, Dominic took Echo/Miranda's hand, lifted it and kissed the inside of her wrist. "Anyone notably not looking?"

"Damien. He had his minions do it."

"Ok. We have some work to do. But, first, I need to look like a lust-struck idiot." Without hesitation, Echo/Miranda leveled an "I've been patient but I want sex now" smile at him. Laurence had trouble swallowing. "That … that ought to do it."

"My pleasure."

* * *

"How's this?" Echo/Miranda asked, spinning to show off her fitted long sleeved T-shirt and skin tight jeans. "Am I dressed appropriately for breaking and entering?"

"You're fine," Dominic replied, fiddling with a small electronic device. "Give me your cardkey for the room."

Curious, Echo/Miranda leaned over Dominic's shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"Watch." Dominic attached a number pad to the device and punched in 3728. Next he slid Echo/Miranda's card key into an aperture in the device and activated an unmarked switch. When the red indicator light changed to green, he took the card out and offered it to Echo/Miranda. "This is now a key to Francois' room."

"How did he get picked to go first?"

"Easier. Damien's a security freak." Standing, Dominic's eyes swept the living area of the hotel suite. "Where's the damn BP?"

"What's it look like?"

"A pen." Rummaging around on the desk, Dominic grunted in triumph.

"What's a BP?"

There was a catch in Echo/Miranda's voice that Dominic almost missed. She hates not knowing things. This goes beyond curiosity. Interesting.

"BP stands for …," she prompted.

"Background Projector." He knew that wasn't enough information for her but was unable to resist a brief, possibly annoying pause before adding, "It'll make us nearly invisible to the hotel cameras if we stay under its umbrella."

Echo/Miranda wound her arms around him. "How close do we have to be?"

"Not that close."

"Too bad."

* * *

"Stay near the door, Miranda," Laurence ordered, slipping on tight black leather gloves. "Listen for anyone heading this way."

Quickly and methodically, Dominic searched the suite, beginning in the bathroom—the furthest room from the door. Standard toiletries and two fencing magazines were all that were to be found. Moving to the bedroom, he examined the closet, dresser, both end tables and even underneath the bed. Nothing of note except, perhaps, someone somewhere might be interested that Francois had very expensive taste in cologne and underwear. In the living room, the desk was a huge disappointment. No laptop. No files. Nothing but resort stationary and complementary pens. With waning enthusiasm, he looked behind and beneath the couch. Between, behind and beneath the cushions of the couch and both plush chairs. In the linen closet, he came face to face with the hotel safe.

Can it be this easy?

"Are you a safecracker in your spare time?" Echo/Miranda whispered.

"Strictly amateur," Dominic replied, crouching down to bring the safe to eye level. "I could open it with time we just don't have so …" He smiled at Echo/Miranda's muttered curse and activated the green blade of his light saber. Taking it slow he drew the blade along the edge of the safe door from just above the lock mechanism to just below. A sharp tug was all that was necessary to open the door. Holding a small flashlight between his teeth, Dominic examined the contents of the safe. He left the cash, diamond cuff links and a silk pouch with uncut sapphires. The disks and file folders went into a nylon bag.

"Someone's coming," Echo/Miranda whispered.

Dominic took her by the elbow and steered her into the shadows behind the door. After handing Echo/Miranda the nylon bag, he drew his gun and attached a silencer.

"The ripple we picked up was in this hallway," a male voice said. "We can't pinpoint where with any accuracy, though."

"We'll start at the far end and work our way back," a second voice said.

"What are you doing?" the first asked.

"Starting," said the second.

"Jake is three minutes out. We should have someone in the hall."

"Let's just get this done, Phil," the second voice said. "This is likely nothing and I really could use another beer. If someone beats us under 3, they deserve to."

Phil's grumbles were abruptly cut off. "Sounds like a challenge, Miranda," Dominic said. "I want us in the stairwell in two minutes. Stay with me."

* * *

"Let's see what we have," Dominic muttered, firing up his laptop, sinking into the chair behind the desk back in their suite.

Echo/Miranda dragged one of the plush chairs into a better position for viewing the screen. "This one says it's Gladiator," she said, handing Dominic what appeared to be an ordinary DVD.

He loaded the DVD, pulled up the main menu and selected a scene. The gladiatorial reenactment of the Battle of Carthage began. Wordlessly, Dominic held out a hand for the next disk.

"Quantum of Solace," Echo/Miranda said. James Bond dutifully appeared on the screen.

"Burn After Reading."

"Damn," Dominic said. Instead of John Malkovitch or Brad Pitt or George Clooney, architectural drawings flashed across the screen. "Let's sort through this." Swearing continuously, he fought the scrambled code for an index or other indication of organization.

Echo/Miranda raided the mini-bar and poured Laurence a single malt scotch. "Relax," she commanded, standing behind him, agile fingers seeking the knots in his back muscles.

"Fuck me," Dominic breathed as the information coalesced into thirteen categories—identified by two letter designations that translated readily into abbreviations for large cosmopolitan cities across the globe. Each city contained a Dollhouse and every abbreviation had an odd drop down menu. A few minutes of exploration paired "Lego" with architectural plans, "Weather" with environmental parameters—power flow, air supply, water source and processing and the like. "Space Invader" gave access to all manner of security-related details—personnel, equipment, audio and video monitoring and patrol patterns with a particular emphasis on computer-controlled systems, passwords, overrides, activation/deactivation codes and such. "Pips" provided personnel lists complete with basic biographical details as well as characteristics, experiences or events with blackmail potential. Family and close friend information was included, each person leverage ranked to indicate who best to threaten to manipulate the employee in question. "Dolls" specified available imprints as of a date one week previous.

"Is this as bad as it looks?" Echo/Miranda whispered, hands stilling on Laurence's back. "You're wound up tighter than anyone I've ever seen."

"Someone is going to war with us," Dominic said in a tone far far calmer than he felt. "Whoever they are, they'll have an insurmountable tactical advantage if they get even a quarter of this information." He reached for the few slim file folders, hesitating slightly in an instinctual reluctance to worsen the situation.

Echo/Miranda put her hand on top of the files. "Take a moment, Laurence. Take a few breaths. Close your eyes and let me work on your back. Just for a couple of minutes. You need a break."

"Echo, I can't just—."

Tone cold, she asked, "Who's Echo?"

Damn. Need a safe answer. Is there a safe answer? "Uh … someone you remind me of … a little."

"In a good way?"

"Sure."

In punishment, she retreated to her chair after handing him the file folders. Dominic sighed and opened the top folder. Inside was a report entitled "Blending Similar Personalities—Adding Nuance or Wasting Effort?" Dominic skimmed through it, trying to see it as Topher might. Until he got to page 23 which listed four names and had a phone number with extension handwritten below them. Adelle DeWitt. Rupert Douglass. Simone Gagne. Pieter Koslov. The four most influential Dollhouse Directors.

Echo/Miranda must have seen something change in his expression. "Laurence, what is it?"

"I'll know in a minute," he replied, pulling out his cellular phone and dialing the handwritten number.

"SyntheSys Corporation. How may I direct your call?"

Heart rate accelerated by the identification of a Rossum competitor, Dominic strove for matter of fact in asking, "I have a question, actually. Who has extension 818?"

"Isaac Baldwin," the receptionist replied. "Head of Security. Shall I put you through?"

"Please." The moment the extension rang, Dominic disconnected. He pushed page 23 of the report along the desk toward Echo/Miranda.

"What does this list mean? Whose phone number is this?"

Dominic closed his eyes. "How many pages is that report, Miranda?"

"31."

"SyntheSys Security is going to attempt to assassinate those four people on the 23rd."

Echo/Miranda pushed the report away. "That's tomorrow."

"Yeah." Dominic's eyes alighted on the drink Echo/Miranda had poured for him what seemed like an hour ago. He drained it and got up for a refill.

"So … that's going to be the first battle in the war you mentioned?"

Moving swiftly back into position at the desk, Dominic said, "I don't know. Maybe. Or maybe we've missed something and it's already begun." He took a deep breath. And another. Stop stalling, Dom, how much worse can it get?

Echo/Miranda perched on the arm of his chair and leaned on Dominic's shoulder. "You waiting for the planets to align?" she asked.

He grunted to acknowledge her point but refused to look in her direction. The second folder contained a report entitled, "Imprint Building—The Sedimentary Method." This time, Dominic simply turned the pages, looking for anything that seemed out of place. Page 17 contained only an extremely complicate file name. Stapled to the page was the business card of David Edden, Project Leader—Dream Date, SyntheSys Corporation. Handwritten on the card was an email address—.

"Christ," Dominic breathed, reaching for his laptop before catching himself. "We need this quicker than I can get it. Miranda, dial Topher for me."

"Sure." Echo/Miranda sifted through Dominic's phone contact list. "Do you think he'll recognize the file name?"

"You never know with Topher. Could be."

"Hey, Laurence, taking a break from partying?" Topher Brink asked.

Winking at Laurence, Echo/Miranda employed her most professional tone in saying, "Hold for Mr. Dominic, please."

"Can't even dial a phone now? Aren't we getting all high and mighty?"

"Can it, Topher," Dominic said. "I'm going to show you a file name. Tell me if it means anything to you." Dominic aimed the screen of the phone at the paper, depressed a button on the side and moved the phone out from the page slowly.

"Got it," Topher said.

Dominic returned the phone to his ear in time to get the full impact of Topher's reaction.

"Where did you get that?" Topher shouted into the phone. "Where the fuck did you get that?"

Topher doesn't swear, does he? "What is it?" Dominic asked.

"What is it? It's my Alpha report. All of my thinking on composite events. All of it. Even my wild speculative fantasies are in there, Laurence. Where did you get it?"

"Topher," Dominic began, hoping his voice didn't sound anywhere close to as frightened as he was beginning to feel. "Can you access email from the entire network? All Dollhouses?"

"Maybe."

Under other circumstances, Dominic would've commented on Topher's cagey, yet casual tone. Not these. "I need to know if this file was attached to an email to on the 17th. Probably from Paris."

"Attached? Fuck."

Again with the swearing. Shit! "Yeah."

"I'll call you back in a few, Laurence."

Dominic snuck a peek at Echo/Miranda. She was watching him. "It's bad," he said. "We may have already lost some technology. Cutting edge, speculative, highly advanced stuff."

"What about door number 3?"

They both looked at the third file folder. Dominic's hand trembled slightly as he picked it up. Echo/Miranda hugged him as he opened it. Inside was a report entitled "Imprinting Athletes—Let The Games Begin." The report was stamped as a "Copy." Dominic skipped to page 17. It was another copy of the title page. The only difference was the addition of a many digit number at the bottom of the page. Dominic lowered his head into his hands.

"Laurence?"

Dominic's cell phone rang, making both he and Echo/Miranda jump. She picked it up and handed it to Dominic. "Talk to me, Topher."

"You don't want to hear what I have to say, Laurence."

"It was transferred."

"Yep."

"Bought and paid for," Dominic muttered. "Topher, keep this to yourself until I get back." He paused. "If I don't make it back, tell anyone who will listen."

"Laurence—."

"Gotta go." Dominic disconnected and sighed.

Echo/Miranda waited a few moments before asking, "Bought and paid for?"

Dominic pointed at the number on the bottom of the page. "Account number. Swiss bank. But why—?" Looking up at Echo/Miranda, he said, "But why reprint the title page? There has to be a reason. There's been a reason for the rest of it."

Silence fell while both considered the matter. Laurence looked at his glass. "Fuck scotch. I need cognac. And chocolate."

Patting his arm, Echo/Miranda said, "I'm on that." Rummaging through the mini-bar and contemplating calling room service, she asked, "How's Francois' memory?"

"I don't know. He's French in an almost stereotypical way. Kind of … flighty, you know?"

Echo/Miranda smiled. "What do you need to access a Swiss bank account?" she asked.

"Account number and password." Dominic's response was nearly automatic. His thoughts were far away.

"So the password is on the title page," Echo/Miranda said, brimming with confidence. "Probably in the title." When she got no response, she asked, "Laurence, have you heard a word I've said?"

"Huh?"

"Password. Title page. Probably in title."

He gazed at her and blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. "You," he said, smiling. "Are most definitely," he added, picking up the report they'd been studying and his cell phone. "A genius," he concluded. While he waited for the international call to go through, Dominic spared a thought as to whether he ought to cut down on red meat. His heart had been getting a workout through this process and he felt a bit lightheaded.

"Da?"

"I'd like to consolidate my accounts," Dominic said, giving his voice a slight French accent just in case.

"Certainly, sir. Transferring account number?" Dominic read the number from the bottom of the page. A pause that seemed too long to Dominic followed. Definitely cutting down on the steaks. Definitely.

"Password?"

A deep calming breath later, Dominic said, "Let the games begin." The delay this time was interminable.

"Receiving account?"

The number flowed off of his tongue.

"Password?"

"You live once."

"Your transfer is complete, sir. Let me give you your confirmation number."

As if dreaming, Dominic copied the number onto a piece of resort stationary. "Excuse me—this is something I've put off too long. This consolidation. Could you remind me what was in the original account?"

"Certainly, sir. One moment." A bare breath later, the man said "$27.5 million dollars. An assortment of diamonds. Two original Picasso pencil drawings. One outstanding fake Renoir. The gold I can't value—it depends on whether you'd like to leave it as Spanish galleons or not."

"Thank you."

"Thank you, sir."

Dominic disconnected and whispered, "Wow."

Echo/Miranda spoke from somewhere behind him. "What did you make the Dollhouse today?"

He laughed. "You think I know that account number?"

"Who did you transfer it to?" After a brief pause for consideration, she concluded, "You sent it to yourself. How opportunistic. So … how wealthy are you?"

Trying to still his shaking hands, Dominic said, "Pretty damn wealthy." He shook his head. He stood up. Sat back down. Couldn't decide what to do with himself. "What now?" Dominic said. "What the fuck now?"

"Now, I'm going to make you forget Echo."

"What?"

"You heard me," Echo/Miranda said, settling onto his lap, wearing a lace bra and a thong the same deep blue color as her dress.

Jesus. When did she lose the T-shirt and jeans?

"It's not every day I'm alone in a fancy hotel suite with an extremely wealthy man, you know."

He tried to ignore her teeth tugging at his earlobe and nibbling along the length of his throat. He really did. "I … I'm only temporarily … um … that wealthy."

"How wealthy are you on an average day?" she asked, whispering directly into his ear, more than a hint of laughter in her voice.

"Miranda, we should—."

Her kiss was nearly an assault. Without thinking, he responded in kind. Echo/Miranda pulled back for a moment, licked her bruised bottom lip and smiled. The second salvo was gentler, persuading rather than demanding.

Call her Echo and end this.

In a feat of dexterity and determination, Echo/Miranda shifted to straddle him while deepening the kiss to dangerously compelling territory.

Call her Echo. Piss her off. Back her off.

Staring into his eyes, she slowly and deliberately removed his belt, hefting it for a long moment, considering what might be done with the thin strip of leather tipped with a metal buckle. "Not today," she whispered and tossed it aside. With the same unhurried pace and hypnotic stare, Echo/Miranda unbuttoned his shirt.

"I—," Dominic began, stopping abruptly in instinctive response to the curt shake of her head. Puzzling over his reaction and the immediacy of it, he didn't prevent her from kissing him again. Nor did he argue with any other item on her extensive sexual agenda. It was as though he'd decided at some deep primal level that resistance was pointless and it had simply taken a while for that decision to wend its way to the more evolved portions of his brain.

* * *

"Laurence?"

"Hmmm?"

"Come back to bed. It's still early."

"Can't—on a deadline."

Echo/Miranda smiled. "Nothing happens until noon, you know that."

"Yeah, but I have to set my strategy."

"You are going to be the death of me," Echo/Miranda sniffed, rising from the bed, gloriously naked. Strutting over to Dominic, she said, "I made you forget Echo and you made me forget Alan, David and Michel. I'm behind. I hate that."

"You'll catch up. I have faith in you." Laurence stared at the architectural plans for the main resort building, trying to determine how SyntheSys might approach the ballroom. "It's going to be during that stupid costume party. That was a bad idea from the beginning. Anyone could blend in. That's a problem."

"Ok. Naked here and feeling underappreciated."

Dominic tried not to laugh. "I can't appreciate you right at this moment. I'll lose focus. Who knows for how long?"

"Focus is overrated."

"Put some clothes on, please," he said. "We need to figure out how he's going to start the ball rolling. There has to be a go code somewhere."

Echo/Miranda made a production of grumbling but appeared next to him clad in his black silk button down shirt. "Better?" she asked with more than a hint of playful in her voice.

"Barely," he whispered, trying to ignore how the silk framed her body. "I'm, you know, trying to prevent assassinations here. And you … you're … not helping. That's what assistants are supposed to do, you know. Assist."

"Fine," she said, settling on his lap. "What are we looking for?"

"A go code."

"What's that?"

"The 'Let's kill them now' signal."

Echo/Miranda kissed him, deeply, thoroughly, completely. "Isn't that obvious?" she whispered.

"Nah …no," he managed.

"'Let the games begin' doesn't work for you?"

She was wriggling on his lap and Dominic was fighting to concentrate. "Yeah, but … games?"

Echo/Miranda sighed. "I think he wants to challenge you to a light saber duel."

The light went on in Dominic's brain. "As if the fencing fiasco wasn't enough."

"Come back to bed."

He didn't argue.

* * *

"Miranda, I want a meeting with Francois, Simone, Rupert and Pieter after lunch but well before the costume party is supposed to begin. Don't let anyone know the full guest list. I want the element of surprise."

Echo/Miranda kissed him and whispered against his mouth, "Your wish is my command."

Dominic reviewed and reviewed the information at his disposal. He called Topher and had him talk him through his Alpha report—chapter and verse. Until he could speak reasonably intelligently about it, if necessary.

"Done," Echo/Miranda announced. "And I ordered lunch in. I thought you might want a bit more time to prepare."

* * *

"What's this all about, Dominic?" Rupert asked, slight smile indicating that he was well aware he'd chosen the role of straight man.

"Rumors of a traitor," Dominic said. "Adelle was concerned. Sent me to look into it."

"And?" Rupert asked.

"She's rarely wrong," Dominic replied.

Pieter was his usual impatient self—a fact upon which Dominic had relied. "So who is it? This … this traitorous person?"

"You," Dominic said.

"I am no traitor!" Pieter shouted. "You, Dominic, are—as I have always thought and have not been ashamed to say—an incompetent."

Dominic sighed. "Then I'm sure you'll forgive me as I incompetently bumble my way to implicating you, Pieter."

"I would never betray. My family crest is 'Loyal Always.'"

"Loyalty doesn't pay debts," Dominic observed, noting with approval the disengagement of both Rupert and Simone from the conversation. And, if he wasn't mistaken, Rupert was armed—which helped the cause because Pieter's numerous bodyguards were arrayed around the room.

"I repay my debts!"

"Easy to say."

"You have always championed the technology, Pieter" Francois said. "Said we should use it to the utmost. What better way to do that than spread it around? Maybe you think Rossum has had the monopoly for long enough."

Everyone turned to Francois. "Funny," Dominic said, "I didn't mention what form the betrayal took. Interesting that you know, Francois."

The Frenchman shrugged. "What other way is there?"

"I must admit," Dominic began, moving slightly to his left to put himself between Simone and Francois just in case he chose to start early on the hit list. "I don't know that many ways to amass $27.5 million, a couple Picassos and a bucket of diamonds and Spanish galleons."

Francois paled. He looked around the room. Pieter's bodyguards were alert.

"Oh, I forgot, and a fake—a good fake Renoir."

"Dominic," Francois began, "I'll share."

"Share?" Dominic laughed. "You got nada. My account, in stark contrast, is fat and happy." He allowed a moment or two for that to sink in. "Now, you're going to call your buddy Isaac and let him know that some difficulties have arisen with your program."

"I don't know any Isaac."

"I didn't either. Until I called the number in your extensive report on whatever the hell it was and got SyntheSys Security." Dominic offered a phone. "Do it," he hissed and stepped back.

"May I?" Pieter asked.

"By all means," Dominic replied.

Francois called the number.

"Extension 818," Dominic stage whispered.

When the connection was made, Francois began speaking rapidly. "Isaac, I've been—."

Pieter put a bullet in Francois' brain and picked up the fallen phone. "Do not attempt what you and this late fool have planned," he said. "We are waiting."

"I'll speak to the others," Rupert said. "Tell them the meeting is over and let them know what's happened."

"I will have my men clean up this mess," Pieter offered, nudging the dead man with one foot. "We will also remain behind to see if this Isaac person is not so intelligent."

Simone kissed Dominic on the cheek. "I'll eat crow and tell Adelle how well you did."

* * *

"Hey," Echo/Miranda whispered. "Laurence, wake up." She shook his shoulder gently. "We're back."

Feeling like he needed to sleep for a week and had actually slept for only about two minutes, Dominic struggled to open his eyes. "Huh?" he mumbled.

"We're back."

Dominic sat up straighter and rubbed his eyes. "How long have I been out?"

Echo/Miranda grinned, reaching to straighten his tie. "Practically since we got into the car."

"Oh. Sorry."

Boyd Langton opened the door. "Hello, Miranda, it's time for your treatment."

"Ok." She winked at Dominic. "I'll see you after my treatment, Mr. Dominic. We can see about updating 'Who Forgot Whom.'"

Managing only a brief nod and a slight smile, Dominic leaned his head back on the car seat and closed his eyes. If Echo's getting a treatment, Adelle's back. The motivation to move was difficult to muster. I could just stay here. It's a nice enough car.

"Mr. Dominic?" the driver said.

Forgot about him. I guess hiding out isn't an option. "Thanks, Cranston."

"You're welcome, sir."

After climbing out of the car, he stretched and used his cardkey to call the elevator. His mind was oddly blank. He didn't want to think. Or think about why he didn't want to think. Or what. He just wanted to sleep. And forget.

"Congratulations, Mr. Dominic," Adelle DeWitt said, striding toward him as he stepped from the elevator, wry smile on her face. "Simone is rarely so complimentary."

Dominic shrugged and glanced in the general direction of his office. Ignoring the unspoken message, Adelle took his arm and steered him along a different path.

"I understand you have recently made a deposit of significance into your Swiss account." At his curt nod, Adelle said, "Corporate has decreed that deposit to be your bonus for the successful resolution of this matter."

"It isn't resolved." He was surprised by how lifeless he sounded. So was Adelle, if her expression was a true indicator of her reaction.

"I do appreciate, Laurence, that SyntheSys has acquired Topher's Alpha report." She halted before the elevator that would bring them to her office. "I merely doubt they will be able to do anything meaningful with it."

"Look, I'm tired," he said, yawning for emphasis. "Can we debrief tomorrow?"

"Request denied." Adelle smiled to soften her words and tugged Dominic gently toward the open elevator doors. He sighed, leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. A heavy silence fell and Adelle permitted it to last until the doors opened to her office. "I thought you would be pleased to receive permission to keep Francois' ill gotten gains."

"I am." If I'm going to be stuck here, I'm at least getting a drink out of it. After pouring bourbon for himself, he turned a questioning look at Adelle.

"Please," she said, watching him intently. "Laurence," she said, "What is the matter?"

"Told you. Tired," he muttered. Dominic handed Adelle her glass. "A lot happened in a short time." Unable to fathom the expression on her face, he asked, "Can we sit, at least?"

"Certainly." Adelle gracefully lowered herself into her favorite chair. "Has this to do with Echo, Laurence?"

Dominic allowed himself to more or less fall into a rough approximation of a seated position on the couch. "This?"

"Your remarkable lack of enthusiasm." Adelle leaned slightly forward, to watch him even more closely than she had been. "You took on an extremely sensitive and difficult assignment, completed it with minimal complications and have been handsomely rewarded for doing so. A high five wouldn't suit, but I had developed an expectation—a reasonable one, I assure you—of a somewhat smug smile at the least."

He managed a ghost of a grin.

"You'll need to do better," she chided. Adelle retrieved the bottle of bourbon from the bar and brought it to the tasteful coffee table in front of the couch. Refilling both glasses, she said, "You slept with Echo."

Meeting her gaze, he said, "Yes."

"You aren't about to face a firing squad, you know."

"It's not … that."

"Then what is it, Laurence?"

He took a deep breath, searching for the right words. "It's strange. I never thought about it before. Not really. She's already forgotten. I won't. That's difficult on a lot of levels." Rubbing the bridge of his nose between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand, he tried again. "From a client perspective, I get it. You pay for your fantasy. You have it. You remember it fondly or not, depending. There's no further contact. Or maybe there is on a sporadic basis if everything went well and you can afford it." Leaning his elbows on his thighs, he continued, "This … I don't know. I don't see just tucking this away in some fantastic sex plus interesting conversation memory file. I'll see her. I'll see her in the "Did I fall asleep?' 'Good day' 'Dr. Saunders is nice' doll mode. It'll take time to reconcile Echo with Miranda. If that's even possible. And with her increasing awareness of some things…" Pouring more bourbon for himself, he muttered, "I'm not articulating this well. I'm not sure how."

"Are you struggling with the right or wrong of the act?"

"No. I'm talking about the aftermath. The 'Where do we go from here?' element. For me. She's covered. She's back to a clean slate. I'm not sure where I am."

Adelle's body language shifted on a dime, almost as though she'd switched her spoken language from the Queen's English to Swahili. Almost before Dominic was able to register alarm, Adelle asked, "Would you sleep with Echo again?"

"Echo or Miranda?"

"Echo as Miranda."

"In a heartbeat."

She reached out and rested her palm against his cheek. "I think that is a fine place to be."

Pulling back, he nearly snarled, "It's a pointless place. Hell, it isn't even a place."

"I knew this would be difficult for you."

He sighed, leaned back and closed his eyes. "It's disturbing. I never thought it would be disturbing. Or that I could even be disturbed by … by having an experience with someone else that only I remember. Remembering things differently—that happens all the time. But this … this all or nothing … it … well, to be honest, it hurts."

"Pain isn't all bad, Laurence."

Shaking his head, rolling his eyes, both movements somehow combined into one, Dominic asserted, "Pain sucks, Adelle."

"That is why I'm glad you are sparing yourself the knife wound of the right versus wrong debate, because there was nothing Hearn-like in your situation." A brief, nearly imperceptible pause later, she added, "Miranda was designed for you, Laurence. That imprint was intended to punch every button you have." She enumerated on her fingers. "Extremely competent. An excellent empathetic listener. A tiny bit shy. Occasionally in need of protection. Unconsciously aware of how you like your foreplay." Smiling, she confided, "You were meant to sleep with her. Although … I must admit that I didn't foresee all of the ramifications. I blame myself for that."

"Ramifications?" Voice lowering dangerously, he said, "What ramifications?"

"Indeed. It seems that Topher—."

"Who else?" Dominic didn't want to try to imagine Topher-type ramifications.

"As you know, Topher monitors the actives during engagements. This was no different in his eyes. In fact, he was even more over the top with Echo in this instance because he had no information on her imprint. To make a long story short, he tracked innumerable parameters, more than usual. These included, without limitation, her physical pleasure and you truly do not want to know the euphemism he uses for an orgasm."

He tracks—Christ! I was winning the Made You Forget thing too.

"I see that you are properly speechless and I must say I am pleased I do not have to wipe a smug, self-satisfied smirk off of your face at this juncture. Rest assured I would have."

Dominic drank, considering his predicament. "This isn't good."

"Topher's indiscreet disclosures will make things awkward for a time—."

"Indiscreet disclosures? What the fuck has the little shit been saying?"

Adelle bit her lip.

She's trying not to laugh. Better not. It isn't funny. How the hell am I supposed to function effectively as Chief of Security if the King of Geeks is babbling about my sex life?

"Don't fret, Laurence. Just resume the role you play so splendidly and things will return to normal.

"Role?"

"To quote Topher—."

"Please don't."

"I must, because—in this case—he is spot on. Big Bad Laurence suits you." Adelle sat back in her chair. "You must allow Topher some leeway, Mr. Dominic. I think he is a bit in awe of you at the moment."

Something snapped in Dominic. "Awe? I'll give him something to be in awe of—the ass kicking he's going to get from me."

"Again, you misunderstand. You must truly be tired." Adelle waited for Dominic to look her in the eye. "Topher keeps muttering about multiples. Multiple multiples, in fact."

Who cares about Topher and his neuroscience math problems? No one worth a damn, that's who. Oh, wait, we're back to orgasms again, aren't we? Which makes multiple multiples a … a good thing.

"The effort currently being made to keep a smile that must be removed from ever forming leads me to conclude that my Chief of Security has caught up with the conversation."

Dominic nodded, not trusting his voice.

"I trust we can now put this behind us and move on?" Adelle laughed. "That is a picture perfect scowl, Laurence. Flash a few of those about and you'll be on your way back to status quo in no time at all."

"It'll take time," he countered. "Time that could be better spent."

Adelle moved to sit next to Dominic on the couch. Her voice nearly playful, she asked, "Do you want me to fix this for you? Right now? Today? No waiting?"

Startled, he said, "What? You just wave your magic wand and it's like nothing ever happened."

The smile that slid on to Adelle's face sent a pang of fear through Dominic. "Come with me," she commanded.

* * *

"She has bruises consistent with healthy consensual sex, Ms. DeWitt," Dr. Saunders said, eyes sliding briefly over to Dominic who was studiously looking anywhere but at the two women in the room. "Otherwise, Echo is perfect."

"Thank you, Dr. Saunders," Adelle said. "With me, Mr. Dominic."

Adelle breezed out of Dr. Saunders' office with Dominic matching pace at her side. Roughly twenty paces away she stopped and whirled to face him. Peripheral vision revealed Dr. Saunders, Boyd Langton and Topher hovering near the door to Dr. Saunders' office, observing the tableau Adelle had staged.

"I will overlook this, Laurence," she said, stepping close, invading Dominic's personal space with impunity. "Once." She stared into his eyes. "Once and only once."

.

Dominic took a deep breath. "It won't happen again," he whispered.

"See that it doesn't," Adelle said as she slid her arms around his neck and closed the small distance between them. The kiss was a battle fought for the sake of the fight itself, victory and defeat secondary considerations only.

Catching her chin in his hand as she pulled away, Dominic traced her lips with his thumb. He'd been trying to decide what to say and almost laughed when the obvious occurred to him. "Yes, ma'am."

THE END

43