Story: The 104th Fear
Rating: M
Author: Rogoblue
Summary: Bennett is up to no good with the former November (Madeline). It falls to Dominic to help Madeline work through her many fears.
Spoilers: Season 1 and 2, particularly The Attic.
Disclaimers: The toys are Joss Whedon's. The idea is mine.
Dedication: To Joss who thought him up. To Reed who made him happen. You both are to blame for this.
Pairing: Dominic/Madeline
"Strangeness," Topher whispered after Echo explained for about the fifteenth time about the version of Laurence Dominic resident in The Attic to the gathering of usual suspects—Langton, Ballard, DeWitt, Victor and Sierra—in DeWitt's office. "I'd have thought Dom would be a neuron for sure. An agitated, rapid-fire one maybe, but a neuron. Not a synapse."
"Synapse?" Boyd Langton asked, probably because no one else would.
"He's mobile, makes connections," Topher said. "Much more synaptic than neuronal."
DeWitt's bank of monitors went blank. The largest one came back on line and seemed to be shifting though the images projected by every camera in or associated with every Dollhouse more rapidly than the eye could readily process. When the picture settled, Topher squeaked, leaped to his feet and contemplated hiding behind the couch. Laurence Dominic, inhumanly still, wrapped in white whatever, in The Attic.
"What on Earth …?" Adelle DeWitt murmured, staring down at her laptop computer. She turned it toward the others.
"What's that?" Echo asked, taking a few steps closer to the computer, trying to make sense of the rapid page shifts.
"His file," DeWitt said, staring straight at Topher. "Laurence Dominic's file."
Topher held up his hands as though Dominic was standing in front of him pointing a weapon at his face. "No offense, Dom. Being a synapse is a good thing. Really." Narrowing his eyes, lowering his hands a tad, Topher said, "I think that's global."
"Global?" Paul Ballard prompted.
"Every Dollhouse is getting what we're getting," Topher said, pointing to DeWitt's big screen and then the laptop. "Video and browsed file."
"Verify that," Adelle demanded. "Mr. Langton, send word to The Attic. I want Mr. Dominic in Topher's chair within the hour." Eyes on Echo, she said, "For the record, there are simpler ways to flat line than allowing yourself to be shot." Gazing at the room in general, Adelle said, "We'll reconvene in Topher's domain and determine what trouble Mr. Dominic is making for us."
"Maybe he's in trouble," Sierra said, meeting Adelle's eyes. "I know you don't like hearing this, but he helps people in there. He stayed to do that and to help us from inside if he can."
"People like Mr. Dominic help other people only when it serves their agenda."
Sierra smiled at Adelle in a way that would've prompted anyone made of less stern stuff, like Topher, for example, to run away and hide. "It does take one to know one, I suppose," Sierra said.
* * *
Fingers flying over his console, Topher activated the chair to reinstall The Unabridged Laurence Dominic into its actual flesh vessel for the first time. The natives were getting restless by the time the chair powered down. Feeling as though he was on stage, Topher assumed his usual position to the right of the chair.
Dominic's eyes flew open, landed on Topher and shut again. A heartbeat later, Dominic whispered, "This is not a good time, Topher."
"What do you mean, Mr. Dominic?" Adelle DeWitt demanded from her spot between Langton and Echo on the other side of the chair.
Attention focused on Topher, Dominic said, "I have to go back. I promised I'd be there. I'm not sure what'll happen if I'm not."
"You promised someone you'd help them with their fear?" Echo asked, stepping to the chair, putting a hand on Laurence's shoulder. Eyes shifting to Echo, Dominic nodded. "Who?" she asked.
"November." Dominic shook his head. "I mean Madeline."
"November's in The Attic?" Sierra whispered.
"No," Dominic said, shaking his head again. "Not exactly."
"How precisely is Madeline not exactly in The Attic," Adelle demanded.
"It's too complicated to go into right now," Dominic replied without looking at DeWitt. "I need to go back."
"Explain why your image appeared on monitors in all Houses simultaneously and why your file was perused by every computer in the system," Adelle insisted.
"What?" Dominic said, startled into looking at Adelle. DeWitt waited. Everyone else followed her lead. Puzzlement became annoyance became thoughtfulness became something difficult to interpret. "Damn," Dominic muttered. "That backfired in a big way."
"Explain," Adelle demanded.
Sighing in recognition of defeat, Dominic asked, "Can I get out of the chair?"
"No," DeWitt said. "Not ten minutes after your appearance on monitors of all sorts, the Director of the Washington D.C. branch called me wanting to "borrow" you. I want to know why."
"It's kind of a long story," Laurence said. "You might want chairs of your own."
DeWitt's eyes flickered around the room. Ballard, Langton and Victor moved as one to the door, returning with chairs. DeWitt said something to Langton and he left again. "Proceed," Adelle instructed.
Perversely, Dominic remained silent.
"She's not going to let you go anywhere until you tell her something," Echo said. "Since you're in a hurry, you might as well get on with it."
Tell her something? Interesting. Dominic nodded. A smirk slid onto his face as he chose to begin his story by saying, "An indeterminate amount of time ago, I felt somebody new enter the system. There was something off about them but they were afraid, same as everyone else, so I tracked them down. It was her. November. Madeline. She … she was … well, she was there and not there." Frowning, he tried again. "She was of The Attic but not in it."
"I don't get it," Echo said.
"I'm not sure I do either, not completely, but Clyde said the description was apt."
* * *
An Indeterminate Time Earlier
"Hello?" Dominic called into the dimness. "Is anyone here? It's ok. You don't have to be afraid."
Bright overhead lights burst into life, illuminating a chair with a young woman strapped into it. A glass or plastic mask-like thing sat over wide open, absolutely terrified eyes. She had a bar of plastic in her mouth.
Slipping his gun into the pocket of his battered jacket, Dominic approached the chair slowly, blue eyes widening in recognition—November. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to try and help you. Ok?" She nodded. "I'm going to take that thing out of your mouth so you can talk. Ok?" Another nod. Taking a deep breath, readying himself for the screaming that was likely coming, he removed the plastic bar. Silent, a tear sliding down one cheek, she looked up at him expectantly. "What's your name?" he asked.
"Madeline."
"I'm Laurence."
"What are you doing here, Laurence? You're not supposed to be here. She'll be angry."
"Who?"
"The scary woman with her arm in a sling."
"Why is she scary?" Dominic asked.
"She hurts me."
"How?" he asked.
"Every way imaginable."
"She isn't here," he said. "Hell, you aren't even here. Not really."
"She's here." November's light eyes begged for understanding.
Instinctively holding her gaze, Dominic shook his head. "No, she isn't."
Those gorgeous eyes darting to his left sent Dom into a spin in plenty of time to deflect the clipboard that had been heading for the back of his head. He'd followed through with a kick to the midsection and winced when he realized he'd just sent a girl with one useable arm flying into the desk across the room. "Go away," the girl said. "You don't belong here."
"You've got that exactly backwards, sweetheart," Dominic said. "I belong here. You don't."
Gesturing to Madeline, the girl said, "She needs me. I'm part of all of it."
"She doesn't need you and she certainly doesn't want you here," Laurence said. "All you cause her is pain."
Clambering to her feet awkwardly, the girl laughed. "She needs me because of the pain." Approaching just as slowly as Dominic had, the girl said, "Little Miss Girl Next Door craves the pain. Don't you, honey?"
Sling girl's laughter sent Dominic's eyes to Madeline. She was looking away, shoulders shaking with her sobs.
"She looks so innocent, doesn't she?" sling girl asked. "Hiding her face, crying in shame. You wouldn't think she's screaming inside to be hurt. Not hurt and comforted. Don't be suckered into that game. Just hurt." The girl looked Dominic up and down. "She'd enjoy it even more coming from you, I think. Want to play?"
Dominic felt as though the earth had shifted beneath his feet. Something's not right here.
* * *
"Why did you reach that conclusion, Mr. Dominic?" Adelle asked the instant Laurence fell silent.
"It's against the rules," Echo said. Dominic nodded in her direction, noting Langton's return bearing a bottle of bourbon and a glass.
"How so?" Adelle asked.
"I'm not sure why or how, but I can enter other people's nightmares," Laurence said. "But I'm not actually part of them. I can interact with people, try to help them face their fear, but I don't have … I don't know the right word … a … a role, I guess. So being asked to participate directly was … odd. And it got odder, because I suddenly had a lot of parts to play without a script in sight."
"Bennett."
Dominic turned to Topher. "Say what?"
"That's her name," Topher said. "The woman with the sling."
"Oh, ok," Dominic said. "So, anyway, I didn't know what I was dealing with, but I knew it was something new."
"But you're supposed to help her face her fear, right?" Sierra asked. Without pausing for an answer, she said, "Shouldn't you have played along?"
"I'm not following," Dominic admitted.
Sierra rolled her eyes. "If November would've handled the pain better coming from you, isn't that helping?"
"I don't think so," Dominic said, fighting not to smile at the fierce look Sierra sent his way. "If her fear was of the pain, that would track, but it wasn't. Madeline was afraid of wanting or needing the pain, regardless of who delivered it to her."
Like the perfect straight man he often was, Boyd Langton asked, "What happened next?"
* * *
"I don't play that way," Dominic said, splitting his attention between Bennett and Madeline.
"Too bad," Bennett said, moving to her desk and the controls for the chair.
Dominic barely suppressed the urge to body slam Bennett into the wall. Instead, he turned to Madeline, crouching next to the chair. "I know you're afraid, Madeline, but none of this is real. You're in your own mind facing your greatest fear." He took her hand, staring into frightened yet focused eyes. "That's what you have to do. Face your fear. Accept it. Own it." Lowering his voice to the merest whisper, he asked, "What are you afraid of, Madeline?"
"That she's right," she said, eyes closing, back arching as the pain hit.
"You don't crave the pain, Madeline," Laurence said, rubbing her hand between both of his, preparing to take wild guesses about this young woman's life. "Think about when you've been happy. I just got a new puppy happy. Dancing around the house happy. He loves me happy. You didn't need pain for any of that."
A longer, more intense blast from the chair left Madeline panting and crying again.
"If you wanted this, you wouldn't have screamed like you just did. You might have screamed but not like that. There's a huge difference between, 'That shit hurts so damn bad,' and the same thing with the word 'good' at the end. Crying like you've lost your best friend goes with hurting badly. Nothing about you suggests you're into pain."
"She said so," Madeline muttered.
"And she's established a reputation for honesty in your eyes?"
A ghost of a smile graced Madeline's lips. "And you have?"
"I don't know," Dominic said, trusting his instincts, going with the flow, smiling a challenge. "Have I?"
"Everyone tells me I need pain to be my best."
"That stings," Dominic muttered.
"What?"
"I don't count as part of everyone anymore?" he asked, trying to look outraged. "I mean, I know I'm in The Attic and all but—."
"The Attic?" Madeline asked, those eyes asking for more than Dominic was willing to give.
"It's not important," he said, waving a hand in dismissal. "This is. You don't need pain, Madeline."
Madeline screamed and screamed and screamed. The silence that followed was of the deafening variety. The lights dimmed. All of the electronic equipment and office furniture were gone. As was Bennett. The chair had become a couch covered in light blue paisley fabric. Laughing loud, full bodied, Madeline said, "That felt great!"
"Screaming?" Laurence ventured, glancing at what looked to be a living room in a middle class home.
"Screaming?" Madeline asked, sitting up, patting the spot next to her on the couch. "That, my dear, was a shriek of triumph." Her smile was large, happy.
"Guess so," Dominic said softly, carefully, warily, sitting down where indicated. "Where are we?"
"My house, silly," she said, tilting her head, brushing his cheek with the tips of her fingers. "You look tired."
"I am, Madeline," he said. "Things have been … busy."
Her smile faded more rapidly than Laurence had imagined possible. "Who's Madeline?"
"Um … you?" he risked.
"My name is Kimberly, Laurence."
Deciding honesty was the only way out, he said, "It wasn't two minutes ago."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You were a different person, named Madeline, who was afraid of needing pain. What are you afraid of Kimberly?"
Her shriek was decidedly non-triumphant. Madeline kicked off her shoes and pulled her legs and feet up onto the couch. "Rats!" she said, pointing dramatically downward. "I'm afraid of rats."
Laurence looked where indicated. "That's a mouse, Kimberly."
"What. Ever." She glared at his failed attempt at concealing a smile. "And don't you dare say it's more afraid of me than I am of it because I'm bigger. Don't you freaking dare, Laurence!"
"I won't," Dominic said, "but that's the truth."
"Kill it," Kimberly commanded.
"I think it's time you faced your fear, Mad—um … Kimberly."
"What? Are you channeling Dr. Phil now? I don't think so, Laurence. Rodent removal is a guy thing. Get busy."
An idea surged into Dominic's head. He turned it over, wanting to reject it but having no alternatives in mind. "Kim," he said, voice low, amused. "All you have to do is stand up and take a step toward the mouse to send it packing. If you don't, it's going to see you naked, because I'm out of patience."
"I don't get naked in front rodents," Kimberly said.
"Then I suggest you put the fear of Kimberly into it," he said.
"You won't take care of this teeny tiny thing for me?" Kimberly asked, turning her incredible eyes on Laurence. "Please." He shook his head. "Pretty please," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck, molding her upper body to his. Laurence gritted his teeth and shook his head.
"Scare the rodent," he commanded.
"You scare the rodent," she countered.
"No," Dominic said, crossing his arms in front of him, scowling.
"You're such a diva," she muttered, leaning down, picking up one of her shoes and heaving it at the mouse. The mouse ran from the room which shifted without noticeable dissonance into something that could only be a hotel room, opulent looking but far from actually opulent.
Laurence sighed. "And you are?" he asked.
"What?" Madeline said. "I like you, but if you can't remember I'm Madison after what we've done to and for each other over the last five months, you have bigger problems than I can handle."
"That has been said about me," he muttered. Recklessness personified, he asked, "What are you afraid of, Madison?"
"Nothing."
"Seriously," he prompted.
"Stop it. You know how much I hate public speaking," she squealed. "And I have to in …" Madison glanced at her watch. "Fourteen minutes. God, Laurence, how am I going to do this?"
"The same way you do everything, Madison," he said with a grin. "With style, aplomb and light to moderate fanfare."
She giggled. "You're funny," she whispered. "I wish I could do that. Make people laugh like you do."
"You can," Dominic said, ignoring the plea from deep within to stop the train that was Madeline and get the hell off. "If you'd relax and let it happen. Comedy isn't forced. It's a force of its own."
"What does that mean?"
He grinned. "I have no idea, but it sounded good, didn't it?"
"You desperately need therapy," Madison said.
"You're absolutely right and you're beyond ready to address your audience."
Madison leaned in to kiss Laurence on the mouth. "Thanks," she whispered. "I'll dedicate my talk to you."
He smiled and found himself in the kitchen of a small restaurant or large mansion. Madeline was arguing with a goateed man who looked down his large nose at her. Big mistake, chef or assistant chef or whatever you are.
Madeline spun and her eyes found Laurence, widened and glanced away. Taking the cue, however difficult to interpret, Dominic sauntered toward her. "Ma'am," he whispered in an effort to duck the name issue, aborting his plan to take her hand at the last moment, assessing her body language and every other parameter he could ascertain.
"Laurence," she whispered. "Please take me home."
"Of course," he said, steering her out of the establishment with a hand on her elbow, letting her lead them to the car. Instinctively reaching into his left front pocket, Laurence found car keys and suddenly knew they were to the large black car parked among lesser sedans about one hundred feet away. I'm the chauffer? Trusting he understood his role, Laurence opened the driver's side rear door for Madeline and helped her in. They sat in silence and Laurence tried not to wonder where he was supposed to be going. Just drive, Dom. Madeline's wide frightened eyes spoke volumes, but Dominic struggled to interpret page one.
"Are you sure you want to go home, ma'am?" he asked.
"Of course," she said, sounding just the opposite. "Donovan loves me. He only hits me to let me know when I've not been my best."
Abusive husband. Couldn't do without that scenario, I guess. "You don't have to go back to him," he muttered.
"Where else would I go?" she countered. "Who else would have me?"
"Are you on crack?" Dominic asked, meeting her eyes in the rear view mirror, seeking to make sense of random thoughts leaping into his head. "The … the guy who … um … cleans the pool looks at you all the time. And half of Donovan's friends stare at your chest. That investment banker guy drools. It's kind of disgusting."
Madeline laughed. "And how would you know any of that?" she asked, smiling.
Damned if I know, Madeline. "Waiting by the car is boring," he said on what felt like more than a whim.
"So you … spy on me?"
Relaxing into the role, Laurence said, "Bad habit of mine. I've been trying to break it."
"Your sage advice is for me to run away?" she asked.
Something in Madeline's tone drew his eyes back to her. "Not running so much as … driving away."
"I don't drive, Laurence."
"That's what you have me for, ma'am."
After what seemed like a long time, she said, "Drive me to Vegas. I want to see an Elvis impersonator."
Dominic laughed and found himself several paces behind Madeline as she hurtled down a dark alley. "Hey," he called.
"What?" she snarled.
"Just wondering what your name is," he said.
"Daphne." She halted. "Stop following me. I said, 'No.'"
"I heard you," Dominic said, acutely aware of something or someone lurking further along the alley. "It's just that I don't think it's smart to take this short cut tonight."
"Are you my father now?" she demanded, hand on her hip, deep blue dress featuring impressive cleavage.
"No." Thank God. He gestured down the alley, "It's awfully dark, don't you think?"
"I'm not afraid of the dark, Larry."
Dominic closed his eyes. "What are you afraid of, Daphne?" She looked away. Biting her lip, she stared down at the littered ground. "Hey," he whispered, grasping her chin gently, tilting her head up. "You're trembling," he said. "What's wrong?"
Jerking her head to free her chin, Daphne murmured, "Nothing. Other than the fact that you won't go away."
"Ok," he said, stepping back. "Sorry to have bothered you, Daphne. Have a nice life."
He turned to head out of the alley, puzzled, sensing failure. "Wait, Laurence," Daphne whispered. "I … I'm sorry I've been such a bitch. I … just … I mean, I'm not really good at … Well, my problem is kind of …"
"You can't complete a civil sentence?" Laurence ventured.
'I''twanttobewithme."
"Huh?" Laurence said. He and Madeline stood in what was clearly a woman's bathroom. She wore cobalt blue lingerie—sexy lace camisole and not much else.
"This makes me look fat, doesn't it?" she said, sighing theatrically. "Fatter, I should say. Christ, Laurence, how can I go out there and face David? Dressed like this? Looking how I look dressed like this?"
"Um … I'm not entirely sure David … um …" Think before you talk, Dom. Try to, anyway. There is a very bad interpretation to "I'm not entirely sure David deserves this." Idiot!
"You think he's getting tired of waiting? Oh my God, you're right. He's so not patient. He could be a poster boy for impatient. What am I going to do?"
Not sure where to look, how to gainfully occupy his eyes, Dominic jammed his hands into his pockets and asked, "Do?"
"About this," Madeline nearly wailed, gesturing to herself.
Laurence gave in to the temptation to peruse her wardrobe choice. "Strut out there and kick David in the ass if he doesn't appreciate the view?" he said.
Madeline considered. "The pumps stay on then?" she asked.
"Definitely."
"Thanks, Laurence."
"Anytime."
* * *
"Those were the first few," Laurence said. "That gives you the idea."
"They composited November," Topher whispered. "How many versions on the get over your greatest fear theme, Laurence? Twenty? Thirty?"
"One hundred and three."
"Zounds!"
"Topher," Dominic said, "who the fuck actually says, 'Zounds?'"
Ignoring the comment, Topher mused, "November has one hundred and two imprints plus herself."
"One hundred and one," Dominic said, finally reaching for the glass of bourbon Boyd had put on the arm of the chair.
"Someone's not so good with the addition," Topher said.
"We came full circle, Topher," Dominic said. "Madeline, one hundred and one others and back to Madeline."
"You replayed the scene with Bennett?" Echo asked.
"No." Laurence stared into his bourbon as though it could help him with his reply. "She had a different fear to work through by that time."
"Of course she did," Sierra said.
"People's worst fears don't suddenly … morph into new and better ones," Topher said, looking from Sierra to Dominic and back. "Do they?"
Sierra sauntered over to the chair and looked down at Laurence as though for something in particular. For the first time in forever, Dominic tried for innocent. Slow smile forming, Sierra nodded. "She sure did," Sierra said.
"Do tell, Sierra," Adelle prompted. She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at Sierra's stunned expression.
"Sorry," Sierra said. "I forgot for a moment that you never got the visual." She shared a look with Echo that Dominic didn't understand beyond that it made him nervous.
"Visual?" Adelle asked, a slight edge creeping into her tone.
Hates other people knowing things she doesn't. That, at least, hasn't changed. The short hair, though. What's up with that?
"Imagine," Sierra said, placing her hands on Dominic's shoulders. Beat up, dark colored jacket with about a million pockets, dark shirt over a lighter waffle knit one, boots that have put a lot of hard miles behind them, big gun. The right amount of beard to qualify for scruffy." Patting his shoulders as though he'd done something well, she murmured, "An awesome look for you by the way."
"I don't believe my imagination is up to the task," Adelle muttered.
"Too bad for you," Sierra said, staring at Laurence until he glanced up. She winked and Dominic went back to studiously looking anywhere but at anyone.
"November's hot new hero held her hand through a hundred bad dreams," Sierra continued. "What's she going to be afraid of after that?" Rubbing Dominic's shoulders a little, Sierra said, "Rejection." Leaning down, she stage whispered, "You didn't reject her, did you, sweetie?"
"I think we can all live well into our dotage without the answer to that question," Adelle said. "Let us focus our attention on what is to be done about November."
Words whirled around Dominic as the others talked about Madeline. His mind meandered back to Worst Fear Number 103.
* * *
"What's your name?" Laurence asked, tired beyond belief.
"Madeline," she whispered. "I … I'm me, Laurence."
"Thank Christ," he muttered. "How many of you are in there?"
"Counting me, 102."
"Jesus." Looking around the pleasant looking, uber modern apartment, he said, "Shouldn't you be in the chair worrying about sling girl and needing pain?"
"I don't know."
Are we really going to ride this rollercoaster all over again? "Madeline," he said, keeping his tone soft, low. "Are you afraid of something else now?" She wouldn't look at him. He sighed. "Let's have it," he muttered. Madeline left the room in a hurry. Resisting the impulse to follow and force the issue, Dominic stared out the window and considered how a woman with 102 simultaneous imprints might think. He hadn't had any meaningful insights when hands came to rest on his shoulders. Spinning to face his opponent, seizing the advantage, Dominic pressed Madeline against the wall face first before he realized who she was.
They both said, "Sorry," at the same time. He released her and stepped back. She turned around, surprising him with a wry smile. "What?" he asked.
"I kind of liked it," she whispered, stepping closer.
"It?" he asked. Still smiling, Madeline stared up at him with huge eyes. Dominic frowned in self defense.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Your hands on me," she said.
"Oh," was all that came to Laurence's mind as a response.
Madeline took one of his hands in both of hers. Watching his face, she stroked his palm lightly. "Every time you touched me; I felt you," she whispered. "No matter what imprint was dominant. I felt your hands on me. I … I wanted you to touch me. I want you to." Chuckling softly, she said, "I think I might explode if you don't."
"Madeline, I …" An extremely modest improvement over, "Oh," Dom. You need to do better. Now.
"You don't have to say anything," she murmured, still stroking his hand. "I don't really expect you to understand how important you've been to me through all of the weird. It seems like this is old hat to you. Boring … you know."
"This most definitely hasn't been boring, Madeline." Her fingernail trailed along the inside of his wrist, sending a jolt of desire though him.
She tilted her head as though trying to interpret his sharply indrawn breath. Smiling slightly, she repeated the caress.
"Don't," Dominic muttered, tugging his hand away from her.
"I'm sorry, Laurence." Her smile sad, she stepped back. "I shouldn't have pushed. It … it's just that …" Genuine curiosity lightening her expression, Madeline asked, "Have you ever been so stoked that you fantasized about overpowering someone physically to get what you want."
The play-by-play of Hearn's demise floated through Dominic's brain.
"That did it, huh?" Madeline said, making Dominic wonder about his expression. "You finally believe I'm a sick twisted freak rather than someone in a whole lot of trouble." She turned away to look out the same window Laurence had. "Why shouldn't you? I am a sick twisted freak."
"No, you aren't and you know it," Dominic said.
She shrugged. "What does it matter? I want you so badly I can't stand still. You don't return the favor, even without the damn fidgets." Madeline leaned her head on the window. "A few times out of the hundred scenarios, I thought you looked at me with … interest. I guess that was wishful thinking. Story of my life." Looking over her shoulder at him, she said, "My actual life, I mean. Madeline's."
"It wasn't wishful thinking." The smile Madeline bestowed on Laurence took his breath away. When it faded, he found himself wanting it back.
"You're just saying that to let me down easy." Madeline sighed and turned back to the window. "That totally tracks with the wishful thinking deal. Been there. Done that."
"I said it wasn't because it wasn't."
She turned around slowly. Watching him, probably for signs of duplicity, Madeline stepped closer, resting a hand lightly on his chest. "Prove it," she said.
Doubting he was doing the right thing, Laurence moved her hand lower. The smile he got this time rocketed through his body, further stimulating the portion of his anatomy beneath her hand.
Stroking him gently, she asked, "Then why is 'No' the answer?"
"Think about it," he muttered. "We're not really here. I don't know where your body is but mine's in LA." His eyes drifted closed when she squeezed slightly. "How … how fucking bizarre is this?"
"Plenty fucking bizarre," she agreed cheerfully. They both laughed.
"Madeline," he whispered. "That feels … really good—."
Her tongue in his mouth prevented him from uttering the word she obviously didn't want to hear —but. When she let him have unimpeded access to oxygen again, he asked, "Are we coming to the part where you overpower me physically to get what you want?"
Pushing his jacket from his shoulders, Madeline laid waste to his restraint with slow, sensual, irresistibly seductive kisses.
* * *
"Are you still with us, Mr. Dominic?" Adelle DeWitt's voice seemed to be coming from far away. "Mr. Dominic?"
"Hmmmm?" he managed, pretending not to hear Sierra's laughter.
"Was it good for you?" Sierra asked, smiling.
"You're asking me?" Dominic countered. "You ought to know."
"I never got to the finish line in my nightmare, sweetie, so I have to live vicariously through you when it comes to sex that's all in your mind."
"Why do you suppose, Mr. Dominic, that your image and file were so prominently displayed?" Adelle DeWitt said, stepping up to the chair, forcing Sierra to take a step back. "I believe you said something backfired."
"I think so." Dominic sipped his bourbon. "We were talking. I told her about my nightmare of complete and utter boredom behind a desk in the NSA. Madeline asked me my real name. I didn't tell her. It never occurred to me that she'd try to find out on her own."
Adelle said, "She searched the Rossum computer system for information concerning your real name? How?"
"She hacked it, I guess," Dominic said.
"They're not!" Topher exclaimed. Leaping to his feet, Topher peered down at Dominic. "Are they?" Topher's eyes shifted to DeWitt. "They are! Holy Render The Attic Obsolete, Batman!"
"Good Lord," DeWitt murmured. "Do control yourself, Topher."
"I'm right." Topher poked Laurence in the shoulder with a frantic forefinger. "L-man, tell them I'm right."
"If you're thinking that whoever has her is trying to make Madeline into a one person mainframe, you're wrong, Topher." Dominic smiled. "I didn't realize how good it would feel to say that."
"For the slow group?" Paul Ballard said.
"No matter how many imprints they stuff in there, Madeline is only one brain," Dominic said, silently thanking Clyde for the information allowing him to put a petulant frown on Topher's face. "You can't run Rossum on that."
"She's an interface, then," Topher announced, hands splayed wide in front of him as if individual fingers repelled their neighbors. "DC isn't going to replace The Attic. They're going to hijack it."
"We think so," Dominic said.
Giddy Topher laughter made Dominic slightly ill. "Are they close, Laurence?" Topher asked. "To putting her on line."
"I don't know. I didn't know what was going on until after the whole get over your 100 plus fears segment of the program. Which kind of begs the question."
Before anyone could ask, Topher said, "Did you advance the tech, perfect the tech, delay the process or fuck it up beyond all recognition by helping November?"
"Pretty much," Laurence said.
"Could you keep Madeline's mind with yours in The Attic if you wanted to?" Echo asked.
"Excuse me," Sierra said, smirking at Echo. "Did you really just ask that?"
Smiling at Dominic, Echo said, "Could you?"
"I think she can," Laurence said. "She said she … um … could."
"Come now, Mr. Dominic, surely we can have a frank and dispassionate discussion about your experiences in The Attic relevant to addressing this threat."
"Madeline said she was being called back," Dominic said. "She didn't want to go, but she did."
"And why was that?" Adelle asked.
"Because I asked her to," Laurence said, interpreting the uncharacteristically ambiguous question to his liking.
"Why?" Adelle, Sierra and Echo asked at once.
"I needed to talk to Clyde about her. About what she might be or become. Madeline didn't want to be alone, so that wasn't going to happen if she stayed." He gestured vaguely with his glass. "And I thought whoever had sent her might retaliate if she didn't come more or less when they called."
Echo stepped between DeWitt and Dominic. "What will the DC guys do with Madeline's body if her mind goes on an extended vacation?"
"The Director despises mess," Adelle said. "If Bennett doesn't object, he'll have Madeline institutionalized. Even if she does object, he won't keep Madeline around for long. He hates reminders of failure even more than messes."
"So …" Echo began. "We send Dominic back to The Attic. The next time Madeline visits him, she's moving in for a while. When we get her body, we bring her here and pull her mind out. Then we'll hijack the Rossum mainframe. Sound like a plan?"
"What if she doesn't come back to The Attic?" Laurence asked.
"We'll cross that bridge when and if we come to it," Echo replied. "For now, let's work out how we'll communicate."
* * *
A Few Weeks Later
"We need the L-man," Topher muttered, holding the cold compress to his rapidly blackening eye. "I think she broke my ribs too." He sighed and regretted it as pain flared in his chest. "I always thought of November as sweet." Looking at Ivy, Topher said, "I wonder if Dom taught her that kick and suggested she use it on the first person she saw when she woke up. That'd be something he'd do."
"I think Mr. Dominic has more going on right now than arranging for you to get the crap beat out of you," Ivy said.
"I can so see him taking a few minutes out of his busy schedule of mind-to-mind sex to plant that little suggestion." Topher's eyes grew wide. "He didn't even have to." Grabbing Ivy by the arm, he whispered, "A little post-coital, 'Would you do a little something for me when you get out?' snuggle-type thing is all it would've taken."
"You really need to see someone about these paranoid fantasies of yours, Topher," Ivy said, moving to allow the personnel delivering Laurence Dominic's body access to the chair. "Seriously," she added. "I worry about you sometimes."
"I'll set this up, Ivy," Topher said, fingering his console idly. "Then I'm gone. You can deal with the Domster when he opens those pretty blue eyes."
"I can't believe you're still afraid of him."
"Fear is a tool, Ivy," Topher said. "How else would we know when to run? Like now."
* * *
"How is she?" Dominic asked the moment his eyes focused. Ivy hesitated. "Is Madeline all right? Tell me, damn it!"
"She's having trouble adjusting, Mr. Dominic."
"What kind of trouble?"
"She can't control her imprints. She's paranoid. Even more than Topher is these days, which is saying something." Ivy paused for a moment, perhaps unnerved by the intensity of Dominic's expression. "She doesn't trust anyone."
"She'll trust me," he murmured.
"We all hope so," Ivy said, gesturing to a screened off area. "There's a sickeningly expensive suit in there for you."
"That's not what she's used to seeing me in," he said, thinking hard. "If I skip the jacket and tie, it'll be closer."
"She … ah … might like you in a suit," Ivy suggested, blushing slightly.
"Here's the deal," Dominic snarled. "The sex was phenomenal, but that's not all we did. We talked. We got to know each other. Madeline knows more about me than anyone ever has and I know her well enough to know she'd prefer something other than a suit."
Ivy smiled. "Sierra was right about the two of you," she said.
"Sierra has issues," Dominic said. "We're not in Kansas anymore type issues. Since I've never even been to Kansas, I know how bad the situation is."
"She knows love when she sees it," Ivy said.
"Excuse me?"
"Afraid of that word?" Ivy said, smiling down at him. "I'm not surprised. Most men are. It's definitely a Y-linked trait."
"I'm not afraid of the word," Dominic said. "I just won't call a spade a heart."
Ivy looked him square in the eye in a way that Topher never had. "Do you want me to take you to Madeline or not?" she said. He nodded. She moved. He followed.
* * *
"Hey," Laurence Dominic whispered. "Are you ok, Madeline?" He saw no one in the large room where Ivy had taken him, but he was ready for that. Ivy had said Madeline was hiding. "I know," he said, eyes darting everywhere, automatically locating the ever so discreet cameras. "I hate the whole 'Candid Camera' scenario too. "You're as much into privacy as I am, if not more." He took a deep breath. "Madeline, please let me know you're ok." Nothing. Shit! "Ok, Madeline," he said. "I'm going to go over and sit on the couch. I'd be happy if you joined me. I'd like nothing better." Dominic did as he'd advertised and waited. And waited. And waited.
"Laurence?"
Dominic eyes darted in the direction of her voice. "Yeah," he said.
"It's really you?" she whispered, stepping out from a closet or something across the room from where he was seated.
"Yeah."
"Maybe I'll start to believe you when you say something other than, 'Yeah.'" Madeline shivered. "I don't trust the people here."
"Can't say as I blame you," he said. "Which I'm thinking qualifies as a significant conversational departure from, 'Yeah.'"
Madeline approached in slow deliberate fashion. "Why did you help them bring me here then?" she asked, sitting next to him, nervously toying with the fabric of her silk dress.
"Because I think you can trust them more than sling girl."
"Really?"
"Really," he said.
"I'm scared, Laurence," she murmured. "I'm so tired of being scared."
He smiled. "You had a bit of a break from that the last time you were in The Attic."
She smiled, but Madeline looked sad nonetheless. "No, I didn't."
"What were you afraid of?" he asked, wondering how he'd managed to miss Worst Fear Number 104.
"Everything that happened."
"But … nothing bad happened." Eyeing her closely, he asked, "Did it?"
Sighing, Madeline leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Only one thing," she said.
"The thing you were scared of most?" he prompted. He felt her nod against his shoulder. "Which was?" Madeline lifted her expressive eyes to his, but this time Laurence couldn't make sense of what he saw. "Madeline?"
"It doesn't matter," she whispered. "What's done is done."
"I played my role as best as I could. What the hell did I do wrong?"
Her voice nearly inaudible, Madeline said, "Nothing."
Dominic's head began to hurt. "You lost me, Madeline. Several lines back I think."
"This isn't dialogue, Laurence," she grumbled.
"It isn't scripted, but it sure as hell is dialogue." Dominic moved Madeline away slightly so he could more easily look her in the eye. "Dialogue I'm not following at all."
"Are you sure it isn't because you're choosing not to?"
"Perfectly." Frustration mounting, he demanded, "Why are you so damn sad? I imagine being turned into an interface sucks. Being sent to The Attic certainly did. But it isn't the end of the freaking world." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Which may be where we all end up if the interface thing is a bust."
"No pressure at all," she said.
"Sorry. Look, can we start over from the beginning, because this isn't going well at all?"
Madeline blinked at him, expression incredulous. "You aren't kidding, are you?"
He shook his head. "I want what kids call a do over."
"Why not?" Madeline got up and walked back to the closet or whatever. Spinning, she said, "Laurence?"
"Yeah."
"Is it really you?" she asked.
"In the flesh this time," Dominic said.
Madeline laughed, a sharp, almost reckless sound and made her way across the room much faster than she had the first time. "So we can get seriously busy?" she asked.
"In theory," he muttered.
"Screw theory." Madeline straddled Laurence's lap and kissed him hard. Distracting him with roving hands, she nibbled along the base of his throat.
"God, don't … Madeline!" Her name on his lips ended in a groan as she reversed direction and repeated the stimulation.
"This makes you crazy in real time too," she whispered, as a fingernail took the place of her mouth. "Interesting."
"Christ, stop that."
"It's not about theory at all, Laurence," Madeline said, most definitely ignoring the request. "Application is the key."
"Hell, yes," Dominic murmured as Madeline applied herself to the task of arousing him. "God, yes."
Madeline paused. "That's what I am," she mused. "An application.'
Fighting to get his breath back and to calm down, Laurence said, "You're not a … an application. An interface is way cooler."
"I don't want to be an interface."
She's got the pout thing cold. Damn. "What do you want then?"
"Mutuality."
"Mutuality?" he said. "You lost me again, Madeline. This is getting to be a habit."
"I love you, Laurence."
The words hung in the air. Suddenly the air seemed more substantial, capable of holding such a thought aloft. Dominic didn't know what to do. He had no defense for this. That left one alternative. Go on the offensive. Take the freaking high ground. He moved Madeline off of his lap. Ignoring the hurt in her eyes at what she thought of as rejection, he quickly shifted positions, pinning Madeline on her back to the couch. Possessed by demons he had no idea how to exorcise, Laurence ripped her lovely dress and took Madeline as hard as he'd ever taken anyone. Harder. Fear of making a bad mistake combined with the inability to stop allowed sensation to have its way with them both. Madeline screamed in fulfillment. Clutching his shoulders, clawing his back, moaning his name, Madeline made her case with her body and drove Dominic over the edge with a frightening intensity.
"I love you," she said again when their breathing returned to something resembling baseline. Madeline kissed his shoulder softly. "Sorry about …" She traced the length of a deep scratch with a fingertip. "You're bleeding."
"You aren't?" he said. "Christ, Madeline, I … I'm … not sure what to say, because an apology seems inadequate."
"How about, 'Wow?'"
"I thought that went without saying," he whispered.
"You were awfully chatty for a guy who wasn't saying," Madeline asked, smiling, kissing him lightly on the mouth. "Before you fixated on my name."
"I was stroking your ego," Dominic said, adjusting to get more comfortable and to give Madeline more room on the couch.
"Bullshit!"
"That's my story and I'm sticking with it." Accepting another soft sweet kiss from Madeline, Dominic ran gentle hands over her body. "Seriously, Madeline, I didn't mean for … for things to get so out of hand."
"You're nearing the fine line, Laurence," Madeline said. "You don't want to cross from somewhat plausible ego stroking into overkill."
"This may do it. We'll have to see." Dominic took a deep breath. "I have a new loop in The Attic. I'm looking everywhere for you. Leaving no fucking stone unturned. Not one pebble. And somehow I know you aren't just gone. You were never there in the first place."
She smiled. "But I'm right here."
"Your present location has not escaped my attention," he said, eyes widening when he realized that their present location had absolutely, positively slipped his mind. Christ! Adelle and company just had a ringside seat to me losing it in a huge way. Can you say leverage? Of course you can.
"I like my present location very much," Madeline whispered, kissing him again, luring him into a response.
"Me too."
"Do you trust me?" Madeline asked, pressing full length against him as if the feel of erect nipples was trust inspiring.
"Sure."
"Don't just agree to agree," she said. "I need you to trust me, because I'm going to do the interface my way. The only way I can."
"What are you up to, Madeline?"
Wrapping her arms around him, Madeline kissed Laurence and didn't stop until Echo and Sierra arrived to take her to Topher.
* * *
Several hours later
Laurence Dominic stood alone on the elevated walkway in the Los Angeles Dollhouse feeling far too much. He gripped the railing as though his life depended upon it. Trying not to think. Desperately trying not to remember.
"It's done."
He jumped at Adelle DeWitt's voice, despite her soft, low tone. "What happens now?" he muttered.
"We wait. It's up to Topher and Echo now. If Madeline is properly … installed. Forgive me, Laurence, I know of no other appropriate term. If things go well, we'll have control of the technology and be able to concentrate on defending it." She paused. Dominic heard her small sigh and her fingernails drumming on the railing. "Any assistance the NSA might be willing to provide in the latter regard wouldn't go amiss."
"I'll see what I can do," Laurence muttered. "In a little while."
"That will be splendid," Adelle said. Her hand came to rest on his forearm. "She won't serve … in her present capacity forever, Laurence."
"No one can predict what serving in her present capacity will do to her."
"True enough." Adelle's body practically hummed with unasked questions.
"What?" Dominic prompted, profound weariness at odds with desperate energy.
"Would you have preferred to return to The Attic?"
"Yes," he whispered. "I could have been with her. Helped her somehow."
"Topher doubted that, as did Echo. Given the opportunity, even Sierra would've voted with Madeline."
"I'd have found a way."
"Madeline traded her cooperation for your freedom. Don't belittle her judgment."
"I didn't ask her to do that," he snarled. "If something happens to her, I'll blame myself."
"As you would have done in any event," Adelle said. "You delivered Madeline to us, after all."
"There had to have been another way," he said. "You … we didn't have to use Madeline as an interface."
"I will refrain from telling Madeline that you felt it appropriate to do your bit to prevent the world from ending but were disinclined to allow her to do the same."
"As if the concept of permission has any relevance," Dominic muttered.
"I applaud your perceptiveness."
Dominic sighed. To Adelle's raised eyebrow, he said, "I have no idea what to do with myself."
"Have a meal. Get some rest. Punch something." Adelle smiled. "Not necessarily in that order." She regarded him for a long moment. "If I might be so bold as to suggest Mr. Ballard as the recipient of the blow."
"Why?"
"Why not?" A reasonably companionable silence fell. Dominic stared below without really seeing anything. Adelle watched him. "What are you thinking, Laurence?"
"I'm trying to figure out when it got personal."
"Early on, I should think," Adelle said.
"Why would you think that?"
"Call it intuition."
"What do you call it?" he challenged.
"An educated guess based upon what I thought I knew of Laurence Dominic and what Echo, Sierra and Victor have been telling me of the man they encountered in The Attic."
Dominic lowered his head. "Sierra was spot on with regard to Madeline's second nightmare, wasn't she?"
Nodding, Laurence whispered, "Sierra might have even seen the third one coming."
"Third?" Adelle asked.
"The one she told me about today." Laurence glared at Adelle. "Don't pretend you weren't watching the reenactment of Worst Fear Number 104."
"And pass up the opportunity to comment upon a complete and utter loss of control by one of the most controlled men I've ever known? Perish the thought. I don't think I've ever seen such desperation. I doubt many women do." Smiling as his glare became a scowl and headed back toward glare. "What an exquisite reward Madeline received for expressing her fear of falling helplessly in love with you."
"That's the word I'm looking for," Dominic said. "Helpless. I feel fucking helpless. Madeline's going to try and interface with 101 minds and there's nothing I can do for her, good, bad or indifferent. I'm not good with helpless, Adelle."
"Nor I," Adelle said. "Believe me, Laurence, I feel your pain. I've been there."
"What did you do?" he demanded. "What in the hell did you do, Adelle?"
"Suffered," she whispered. "As you undoubtedly will."
"Damn."
"Madeline's strong, Laurence. There's no reason to expect the worst."
"If you do, you're never disappointed," he muttered. Laurence jumped again as a small hand landed on his back.
"Madeline's in," Echo said, smile proud, triumphant. "She's doing great." Leaning a little closer to Laurence, she said, "She says, 'Hey.'"
"Has …?" Dominic forced himself to finish. "Has there been any reaction?"
"Tons," Echo said. "Mostly negative. A lot violent. Madeline's told them all to go directly to Hell. Girlfriend is kicking ass and taking names in there." Echo chuckled. "Probably because she knew the news would put that smile on your face."
"Did she say anything other than, 'Hey?'" Dominic asked.
"You're ordered to get some sleep and I'm supposed to tell you it's ok to flirt with Sierra, so long as she starts it and it's just flirting," Echo said. He laughed. "And I think that was exactly the reaction she was hoping for."
"Thanks."
"Madeline's coming out of this just fine," Echo said. "That's a promise."
"I have no idea why I believe you, but I do," Dominic said.
"I'm the hero of the piece, Dom," Echo said.
He smirked. "I thought that was Clyde."
"Please," Echo said. "I'll look a lot better talking into all those microphones in crystal clear high definition."
"No argument," Laurence said.
"That wasn't flirting was it?" Echo demanded.
"I don't think so," Dominic replied, gesturing toward Echo. "The facts are what they are."
Echo took a deep cleansing breath. "Good, because Madeline was adamant that the 'Flirting-Ok' thing applied to Sierra only."
"Wonder why," Dominic muttered. Realizing he was facing nearly matching glares from Adelle and Echo, he said, "Curiosity. That's all. Just curious." Focusing on Echo, he asked, "Could I … communicate with her however you did?"
"Not unless you want bizarre composited active architecture in your head." Echo spoke rapidly in the face of his obvious disappointment. "I'm down with messenger duty, though. Totally."
"Tell her I … no, I need to do that myself." Dominic thought for a minute. "Tell her she needs to retire Worst Fear Number 104. She said it herself. What's done is done."
"Roger that," Echo said.
THE END