"I swear -- by my life and by my love of it -- that I will never live
for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for mine." -- John
Galt in Ayn Rand's novel Atlas Shrugged
Ayn Rand has to be the greatest author ever. This fic is based on her book, The Fountainhead. Go read it. You won't regret it.
Anything mentioned in this story belongs to her. I only wish that I would ever be able to write as well as she does.
The characters (Dominique, especially) might confuse you a tad, if you haven't read the book. If you've read the book, you'll understand it. I hope.
ß Mackenzie ß
Roark sat hunched over his desk. He was fixing the designs of a building that Peter Keating had come to him begging for help with. The quick, precise lines formed with each movement of his hands; Hands callused from manual labor like that in the Francon granite quarry in Connecticut. Dominique watched this man she had worked so hard to destroy. The world didn't appreciate his talent; they didn't deserve the wonderful buildings that were him in body, mind, and spirit. She would make sure that no one would see his buildings, like no one would ever see the statue she destroyed. The statue that she had loved so much.
She continued to stare transfixed at his hands. On a sudden impulse, she opened her mouth to speak.
"I don't see why you design the buildings for Keating. He won the Cosmo- Slotnick competition because of you. You designed that building. You're too good for that; too good for mans' eyes. That's what Peter Keating's slop is for. You do realize that's why I praise him in my article and criticize and cut you down. He's what the world deserves Howard, don't you see! I'm going to do everything I can to make sure that nobody ever sees, touches, or resides in one of your buildings. They ARE you. Letting someone see something you've built is like exposing yourself to the world. I'm trying to protect you from that Howard. Only I am allowed to see you. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Dominique. Go to sleep, you can use my bed. I'll make breakfast in the morning." Dominique gave a sigh and slipped into a pair of Roark's pajamas. She laid her clothes on the nightstand next to the bed. She pulled back the simple cotton covers on the small bed and slipped into it. His pillow smelled like him and it helped her to create the illusion of their first night together, when he still worked at her father's granite quarry. How he took her without consent and how she hated yet loved it.
A small sigh graced her thin lips as she heard the soft scratching of Roark's pencil, acting like a lullaby, lulling her into a peaceful slumber.
She awoke the next morning to see Roark scrambling eggs in a frying pan. The side of his face showed that he had fallen asleep as his desk while working last night. The smudges on his face left from the pencil marks on his paper were clear evidence of that. She walked over to Roark and lifted her slender, pale hand to rid his face of the smudges, her hand lingering on his face longer than necessary in order to caress it. He did not look at her, only put some of the now-cooked eggs on a plate and hand it to her.
They sat at the small table and ate in silence. No words were needed between them. They never were. They finished and Dominique headed to the nightstand and picked up her clothing. She shed Roark's pajamas and slipped into her own less comfortable clothing. She folded his pajamas and set them on the nightstand. She headed toward the door, turned back and said,
"Howard, I won't be returning for as long as I can stand to be away from you."
"I know."
"Goodbye, Howard. I love you," she said in a tone much like all she had spoken was a simple greeting to a stranger on the street. Her voice filled with neither joy, nor sadness.
"Goodbye, Dominique." She walked out the door, not to return until she had completely destroyed his career.
ß I hope that you guys enjoyed it. If I get enough people who want a second part or to make it into a series, I'll consider it. I had originally intended it to be only one chapter and that was it. I strongly recommend that you read the book because it is so awesome. I just can't say how great it is. ß
Ayn Rand has to be the greatest author ever. This fic is based on her book, The Fountainhead. Go read it. You won't regret it.
Anything mentioned in this story belongs to her. I only wish that I would ever be able to write as well as she does.
The characters (Dominique, especially) might confuse you a tad, if you haven't read the book. If you've read the book, you'll understand it. I hope.
ß Mackenzie ß
Roark sat hunched over his desk. He was fixing the designs of a building that Peter Keating had come to him begging for help with. The quick, precise lines formed with each movement of his hands; Hands callused from manual labor like that in the Francon granite quarry in Connecticut. Dominique watched this man she had worked so hard to destroy. The world didn't appreciate his talent; they didn't deserve the wonderful buildings that were him in body, mind, and spirit. She would make sure that no one would see his buildings, like no one would ever see the statue she destroyed. The statue that she had loved so much.
She continued to stare transfixed at his hands. On a sudden impulse, she opened her mouth to speak.
"I don't see why you design the buildings for Keating. He won the Cosmo- Slotnick competition because of you. You designed that building. You're too good for that; too good for mans' eyes. That's what Peter Keating's slop is for. You do realize that's why I praise him in my article and criticize and cut you down. He's what the world deserves Howard, don't you see! I'm going to do everything I can to make sure that nobody ever sees, touches, or resides in one of your buildings. They ARE you. Letting someone see something you've built is like exposing yourself to the world. I'm trying to protect you from that Howard. Only I am allowed to see you. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Dominique. Go to sleep, you can use my bed. I'll make breakfast in the morning." Dominique gave a sigh and slipped into a pair of Roark's pajamas. She laid her clothes on the nightstand next to the bed. She pulled back the simple cotton covers on the small bed and slipped into it. His pillow smelled like him and it helped her to create the illusion of their first night together, when he still worked at her father's granite quarry. How he took her without consent and how she hated yet loved it.
A small sigh graced her thin lips as she heard the soft scratching of Roark's pencil, acting like a lullaby, lulling her into a peaceful slumber.
She awoke the next morning to see Roark scrambling eggs in a frying pan. The side of his face showed that he had fallen asleep as his desk while working last night. The smudges on his face left from the pencil marks on his paper were clear evidence of that. She walked over to Roark and lifted her slender, pale hand to rid his face of the smudges, her hand lingering on his face longer than necessary in order to caress it. He did not look at her, only put some of the now-cooked eggs on a plate and hand it to her.
They sat at the small table and ate in silence. No words were needed between them. They never were. They finished and Dominique headed to the nightstand and picked up her clothing. She shed Roark's pajamas and slipped into her own less comfortable clothing. She folded his pajamas and set them on the nightstand. She headed toward the door, turned back and said,
"Howard, I won't be returning for as long as I can stand to be away from you."
"I know."
"Goodbye, Howard. I love you," she said in a tone much like all she had spoken was a simple greeting to a stranger on the street. Her voice filled with neither joy, nor sadness.
"Goodbye, Dominique." She walked out the door, not to return until she had completely destroyed his career.
ß I hope that you guys enjoyed it. If I get enough people who want a second part or to make it into a series, I'll consider it. I had originally intended it to be only one chapter and that was it. I strongly recommend that you read the book because it is so awesome. I just can't say how great it is. ß