Title: emotionless
Author: kait.
Chapter: 11.

Disclaimer: I own all the characters you don't recognize because they aren't on the show. Other than that i own the computer that i'm typing on, and the cd that's playing on it...but i don't own that band...or the song...or anything else for that matter.

Rating:
R.

Author's Notes: I'm in Florida with my grandmother in a condo adorned with more floral patterns I ever thought possible - if you're questioning why I'm full of angst you shouldn't be reading this story.

This chapter bouces a lot, by POV I mean, you should catch the drift though.

Also, I stole a few lines from a Taking Back Sunday song. If you guess which song it is, and get it right, i'll give you a present. Doesn't that sound like fun?

Acknowledgments: I LOVE YOU ALL! (some more than others. yes, you know who i'm talking about. =) ).

Also, I extra-love Chris. She is amazing.

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Dominique eloquently rolled off from her position on top of Atticus. He stayed lying on the bed for a few moments with his eyes closed before he too sat up. Before he even said a word her silk panties were up around her hips and she was holding her bra in her hands.

He never felt compelled to say or do anything after sex. However, for some reason he had an intense craving for a cigarette. He opened his mouth; compelled to speak, although words didn't make it past his lips as she turned around to face him.

The look of ecstacy that had heightened her expression in previous moments had evanesced. Instead it was replaced by the normal stoic expression that followed her around at Chilton. She picked her dress up off the floor and stepped into it.

Whatever you're planning on saying you can forget it. She said with sharpness.
He rolled his eyes at her façade, Oh come on. Just for one second stop playing games.
She smiled, another devious smile. Oh Atticus, she stopped for dramatic effect, And you stop playing games in which you're too naive to know that I'll never stop. My guard will never come down. You will never win this war.
And what? You think you're going to win?
Behind the flat stomach, 3-inch stilettos, and $250 dresses I wear on an daily basis, I'm way stronger then you could ever handle. I'm manipulative, intelligent and completely hard. She sat down in a large chair that was placed in the corner of the room.
You can't tell me that something didn't just happen there. he waved his hand towards the bed.
She looked at him and dead-panned, It was just sex Atticus. You really just need to accept that.
He knew better, however, than to believe her. Behind her perfectly applied mascara, beneath the hardened exterior, deep down he knew that there was something worth reaching. He just wasn't sure how to get to it. I know you felt it. You had to have felt it.
A smirk played upon her lips, I definitely felt something.
Well, I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, but I can openly tell you that that was the best sex I've ever had.
Well, jeez Atticus, You've never quite left yourself this defenseless before. Was it something I did?
You know what you did. Their eyes had locked and neither dared to look away.
She pretended to be oblivious, sounding rather bored instead, And what ever could that have been?
Your eyes were open. You were watching me.
She had to make a valient effort to keep from shutting her eyes forever, finally she reopened them, and stated tactfully, You caught me.
Excuse me? He was bewildered by her comment, there was no way she would ever let her guard down and give in. Not that easily.
You're good with your tongue, I couldn't resist. Besides, how could I not watch you of all people going down on me. Such a inferior gesture, I felt special. I just had to watch.
He shook his head, It was more than that.
Stop acting so damn vulnerable. You're making me wonder why I slept with you in the first place. I didn't know we were going to have to have pillow-talk afterwards.
You once told me - on that night that we were together - that you never kept your eyes open because if you closed them you could pretend that what was happening wasn't truly happening. You didn't want to do those things to yourself, but you did. You hate yourself and you punish yourself by being with people even when you don't want to be.
And what? Because of one stupid night you think you know me? God, I must have been drinking a lot to have said all of that.
Merlot, actually. Half of a bottle.
Not bad for me. I usually try to stay away from anything harder - ruins the skin you know.
Oh yes, and what would the queen of Chilton be without flawless skin?
She laughed, impersonally and stood. Well, I hate to do this but -

She was slipping again and he would never get her back if he didn't say something drastic. We work together and you don't want to admit it.

For a fraction of a second her face softened and he thought her walls were going to come down, but once the instance was over she was back to normal and her words echoed throughout the acheronian room. I can find a guy just as experienced as you anywhere in Hartford. A guy with just as much anger, frustration, angst. You aren't special Atticus. Just because daddy left you and I don't need to fake an orgasm doesn't mean that guys like you aren't a dime a dozen. she paused to shake out her hair. She frowned Don't let this go to your head. she turned on her heel and walked towards the door, unlocking it and then turning the knob.

He stayed silent. She waited for his final commentary but it did not come. So instead she just exited the room, somewhat disappointed. But then again, Atticus Mariano was the only guy who had ever surprised her.


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After exiting the room, Dominique headed back down the hall and turned a corner, looking for a room where she could be alone.

The thing about her, was that she was fragile and delicate. But she could never let anyone know that. She carried around an agressive, hardened exterior so that people wouldn't believe it if she told them. She was sarcastic, witty and intelligent enough that people never questioned who she was. They all just had a vision of her - cold and often heartless - and they believed that. Because people liked to be told what to think.

The only real problem she'd ever had was with the ones who were intelligent enough to not just believe what they were told, but to dig and try to find out what the actual truth was. Those people pissed her off. Sometimes they were trying to help, others were trying to bring her down for their own personal gain.

She sighed as she entered one of the house's more secluded bathroom's. She wasn't even sure if Teal knew about it. However, she had stumbled upon it one day a few years ago and from then on she had made at least a visit per party. She didn't ever stop in when she was alone visiting her dear friend. Even more than not caring whether Teal knew about it, she did not want her to know Dominique knew about it.

The door was locked behind her and she took a seat on the counter, staring at herself.

Sometimes, she hated lying to people. Especially people she loved, whom were few and far between.

Atticus Mariano. The name struck a chord within her every time it passed through her brain. He was an enigma to everyone but her. She could see right through him - he let her, and she never understood why she was the special one.

Why she was the lucky one. The one who he opened up to and yelled at, and lusted over. He'd had sex with a lot of people, but she knew that he never cared for any of the others.

Maybe that was why she was always so goddam impelled to tell him things that were never supposed to come out of her mouth. Why she was more open in front of him than anyone she had ever met since she was six and first learned about deception. She learned well and she learned fast.

When she was with him...she wanted to come out from behind her mask. She wanted to let him break down the wall she'd built around herself. She wanted to let him know how she really felt. How she was broken; unfixable. She wanted to tell him that she'd been lying to herself all this time. Denying what was really there.

But doing all of that; letting herself become like all the rest...it wouldn't just change her. It would kill her. She would no longer be Dominique DuGrey, daughter of the business tycoon, sister of the up-and-coming man of the century, rock-hard and vicious queen of the school. Letting him in would change all of that. And she sure as hell hated change.

Her time of evolution had not yet arrived. It would, however, be coming soon. Sometime around early August. She had already planned it all. The point where she would all but shed the skin of her old life, set out on her way to whatever Ivy League daddy had decided on, and then with a pocketful of cash she would start her new life. She would become a new person.

And it wouldn't be a nice person, it would be someone who was able to be herself. Jaded and angsty, how she wished she could just let loose and try it. Actually let someone know that she had a serious problem.

No one knew that sex wasn't her only vice. She had a few. Some were worse than others, but hey, she had to keep her figure somehow. It was amazing what and where lacking parental supervision and a bank account full of money could get you.


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Sometimes she pissed the hell out of him. She was rich, she was beautiful and she loved ripping his heart out. If it weren't for the fact that he was so blindsided by lust every time he saw her, he would hate her.

He already did. He hated her for what she did to him- he hated himself for that.

Rory would be pleased to know. She was floored when she'd found out that Dominique was Tristan's sister, and that her son went to school with her. All hell would break loose if she knew that he just spent half an hour fucking her at some party, however. Rory and Tristan had a history, that was for sure. Although, it wasn't intense or ardent, just simple and finished. Like an average New York Times bestseller after it's done - it's finished and complete, and occasionally you'll reflect on it, but it was bittersweet to read and not a completely pleasent experience.

Although a book had never driven Rory to get completely blitzed at a dinner before, so comparing Tristan and Rory's relationship to a novel wasn't completely accurate, but at the moment Atticus was too preoccupied with post-sex speculation to think of a better semblance.

He enjoyed comparing things to books. He could compare himself to a book, but he hadn't yet come across the right one. Or perhaps he had, he just didn't want to admit it.

His father and mother however, he had a book for them. It was called the unfinished work of every bitter author ever. A mixture of Salinger, and Rand and Hemmingway and all the rest of the brilliant artists he had come to admire so damn much for their true and when not over-indulgent view of the human race. And the first half was shaped and worked and when it was just about to turn into a WB dramady the second half of the book was ripped away, never to be completed. It wasn't even supposed to have blank pages, it was just supposed to end.

That was of course until Atticus had gotten in over his head and completely fucked it up. He wasn't supposed to come back. That's what had gotten to him.

He wasn't supposed to come back. The more times he repeated it the less it made sense.

Then it became as clear as cellophane. Or some of Teal's imported glacier water. If it happened to Atticus, he would be back. It would pull him back.

And Atticus was his father.


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Her name was Tyler Hunter. Her life had been easy, the whole way through. Good grades, wealthy family, unlike most Chilton attendees her parents were still living together -and were happily married. Her father had managed to stay away from living the lie of being an adulterer, and her mother, well, they'd never had a pool boy.

She wasn't an only child. Her life was untypical in the typical Chilton way, but model from the point of view of everyone else. A nuclear family was what she had, (she was the .5 of the 2.5 children) and people at her school absolutely detested her for it.

Which was why since the ninth grade she had been all but completely outcasted, not that she cared any. Her mother couldn't decipher why it didn't phase her but the answer was simple - it didn't matter because she had the power. Although Dominique had power over the one thing she ever had really cared about, she could still handle the conniving twit. She was more see-thru than she thought.

And apparently Tyler was the only one who could see it, but that was okay. She liked it that way. It made her smile as she made her way through the senior hall when people bumped into her.

The best part was that Dominique knew she was getting closer to having her completely figured out and it scared her shitless. Unfortunately, Tyler was scared too. Having an understanding of the one person Tyler detested most might make it impossible for Tyler to hate her.

And she wasn't sure she liked that.