Dollhouse Fic: "Getting the Wake-Up Call" (Ballard, DeWitt/Dominic, PG-13)
The seriously considered alternate title for this segment was "Clue-By-Four". As in, "Paul finally gets whacked over the head by a".
Title: Getting the Wake-Up Call
Characters: Ballard, Topher, DeWitt, Dominic, Langton, mention of others; DeWitt/Dominic with passing mention of Topher/Ivy and Ballard/Madeline
Rating: PG-13 for mild sexual overtones and some language
Length: 4,080 words
Spoilers: first season (AU for 1x13, "Epitaph One")
Notes: part of Waking 'verse
Summary: An incident at the Dollhouse leaves Paul looking for Ms. DeWitt in the middle of the night...and her eventual whereabouts make clear a few astonishing things to him.
To note that there are a lot of things Paul dislikes about working for the Dollhouse would be an understatement, to say the least.
The dubious if not downright nonexistent morals. The deception and enslavement of confused innocent victims. The reduction of human beings to little more than livestock catalogued and trotted about with no dignity. The subjection of forcible recruits to something levels beyond brainwashing, without any second thoughts or regard for them whatsoever.
Circumstances have brought him to where he knows his best chance to shut the place down comes from the inside. He’s been here for almost a year now, and every day he’s been watching, waiting, just looking for an opening.
It’s not as easy as he might’ve once thought. The Dollhouse is a tightly-run organization with virtually no weak spots, or none big enough to be the ticket he’s looking for, anyway.
And much as it kills him sometimes, Paul knows he needs to wait for the right opportunity. He has to make the moment count when he gets it, bring the Dollhouse down in one fell swoop, because he knows he isn’t going to get a second chance.
Because he knows what’ll happen, if or when he gets caught. A bullet between the eyes would be the kinder fate they could give him.
However, once he gets past all of the main and prominent evils that go on there, all of the moral outrage, instinctive revulsion and personal feelings of disgust…there are still some other, major problems Paul has with working at the Dollhouse.
Namely; how it seems like anything, and everything, is constantly finding whole new ways to go wrong.
“We’ve got a problem,” Paul states in a brisk voice, stepping into the imprint lab.
Topher doesn’t look up from where he’s rapidly typing at his equipment by the chair, fingers flying and eyes focused distantly on the screen.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” the tech replies shortly. “I’m already bringing up the specs from X-Ray’s last engagement, the stats recorded at his last wipe…” He makes a sardonic sound. “I may have no idea what went wrong, or how, but rest assured, the minute they get him back here I’ll be ready to run every diagnostic I can think of and figure it out.”
“That’s not what I mean,” he says, causing Topher to finally look up at him. “This level of a problem - it can’t wait until morning. DeWitt has to be notified.”
There’s a pause as Topher gazes at him blankly.
“And, you thought you needed to clear this past me, because…” Topher says at length, giving him both a confused and annoyed expression.
He shakes his head impatiently. “DeWitt has to be notified, and I can’t get a hold of her,” he clarifies, stressing. “There’s no pick-up at her home phone number and she’s not answering her cell.”
“Ah. I see. Now that’s different.” Topher scratches his chin a moment, considering, and then he drops his hand with a sigh.
“Guess there’s nothing else for it: as persnickety as she’ll get over being disturbed in her private domain, she’ll pull a total Miranda Priestly on us if she only hears about all this tomorrow. We’ll just have to go and get her.”
Topher grabs his jacket, gesturing indifferently at him. “You drive. We’ll pick up Boyd along the way.”
“You know where DeWitt lives?” he has to ask, surprised, as they head toward the elevator. Topher makes a face.
“Yeah. Not to mention the second most likely place where she’ll be.”
They call Langton as they’re on their way over. He’s already waiting for them at the corner of the street.
“The retrieved X-Ray successfully,” Langton tells them, as he gets into the backseat behind Paul. “They’re on their way back to the House with him right now.”
“Any real damage?” He looks in the mirror to meet the other man’s eyes.
Langton shakes his head. “It doesn’t look like he did much to call any attention upon him. And as far as I saw, the Active himself is fine.”
“Besides the part where he behaved in a wildly and erratically unpredicted fashion, you mean?” Topher quips.
Langton just looks at him. “Yeah. Besides that.”
“Where am I going, anyway?” he asks, as they pull up to a major intersection. Langton starts to say something but Topher interjects.
“I figure we might as well swing by Dom’s first,” the tech goes. Topher glances back at Langton, shrugging, and the other gives an acquiescing nod. “It’s closer.”
“What?” He frowns. “Why would we need Dominic’s input on this?”
“Uh, we don’t? Not really.” Topher gives him that patented look of annoyed superiority. “But it’s a little thing called convenience, Ballard.”
He doesn’t get that in the slightest, but he figures it’s easier to go along than sit there and try to get a reasonable explanation out of Topher. He drives where they tell him to drive.
Dominic lives on one of the upper floors of a fairly upscale apartment building. He doesn’t bother being surprised that Topher heads straight for the door, obviously knowing where he’s going.
After almost two minutes of knocking, Langton offers, “Maybe they’re not here.”
“Nuh uh.” Topher cranes his head, eyes narrowed as he listens. “I hear movement.”
Topher steps back just in time as the door swings open and Dominic’s standing there, glaring at them in astonishment.
“What do you all want?” Dominic demands. They’ve obviously awoken him, seeing as he’s in a sleeveless undershirt and sweatpants, his feet bare.
“Emergency at the House,” Langton explains shortly. Dominic’s expression shifts slightly, and he folds his arms over his chest as he leans against the doorframe, eyeing them all with more focus.
“What kind of emergency? What’s happened?”
“Rogue Active,” Paul puts in.
“Not the dangerous kind,” Topher is quick to add, as Dominic’s face shifts again with sharp alarm. “No, this was more of just…an odd little glitch. A technological hiccup, one might say.”
“Still, it’s nothing minor,” Langton says. “We need to talk to DeWitt.”
Dominic nods, understanding, and takes a step back. Paul expects him to close the door in their faces, making them wait in the hall while he gets dressed - and Paul’s honestly a little curious how long that’ll be; he’s half-tempted to use his wristwatch and time how long it takes Dominic to reappear in one of his standard impeccable suits.
But to his surprise, Dominic leaves the door ajar in invitation for them to enter, and Topher and Langton do so without hesitation. Confused but certainly not wanting to be left outside, Paul follows.
While Langton and Topher come to a stop in the living room area, Dominic keeps going and disappears in the direction of what he guesses must be the bedroom.
Langton merely stands there, patiently waiting. Topher goes into the kitchen without pause, grabbing a bottle out of the fridge, and starts rummaging through the cupboard.
“Anybody want some potato chips? Barbeque or sour cream.”
Paul glances around, rubbing his arm and feeling a little awkward.
There are some pretty standard pieces of print art on the walls, a sofa, a few armchairs, a big-screen TV - actually, it kind of looks like his apartment. Though there’s a nice decorative throw over the back of the sofa that doesn’t match what he would’ve expected of Dominic’s tastes at all. There’s a bookshelf next to a desk, upon which is a computer and a docking station for an MP3 player. A few photographs in simple black frames are dotted about.
He goes over and picks up the nearest one. It’s a picture he guesses must’ve been taken about five or six years ago, of Dominic and his younger stepsister, Nicole - he stands behind her hugging her around the middle and her hands rest atop his arms, as they both look into the camera with the open-mouthed smiles and bright eyes indicative of being in the midst of laughter.
“You want me to dig out my high school yearbook so you can poke through that too?”
He turns at the sound of Dominic’s sardonic voice, and finds the other man standing across the room glowering at him.
“Sorry,” he apologizes, quickly setting the picture back. Dominic’s eyes track the movement, a spark showing he recognizes which photo Paul was examining. But he doesn’t say anything else, and his face gives away no emotion besides irritation.
Topher comes over and stands right beside Dominic, munching on something out of the three open bags of snack food shoved into his arms, one hand holding a bottle of root beer. Dominic gives him a look, but doesn’t say anything to him, either.
Paul clears his throat. “Aren’t you going to get dressed?” he asks, indicating the fact that the other man is still in the same state they found him.
Dominic frowns back at him, brow furrowing. “Why?”
“Because,” Paul says, impatient, “we don’t have time to mess around here. We need to speak with DeWitt still, and-”
“I can hear you just fine, Mr. Ballard,” a very familiar voice trails out from the bedroom - crisp British accent making the subtle note of wry sarcasm all the more effective. “And I’m coming along as fast as I can.”
Paul stops completely dead, mid-word and mid-motion.
Slowly, gradually, with very wide eyes, he leans ever so slightly to the left.
He can just see into Dominic’s bedroom. And what he sees is Adelle DeWitt, sitting on the opposite side of the unmade bed with her back to the door. He gets a glimpse of pale skin as she pulls a shirt on over her head.
Dominic follows his gaze, and then takes a purposeful step back so he’s blocking Paul’s view with his body, giving a dark glare.
It’s all Paul can do to stand there.
“She’s…you’re…you two are…oh. Oh.”
He thinks he feels the same emotion he might if a complete stranger walked up to him on the street and, without introduction or warning, slapped him right in the face.
He gazes, floundering beyond bewilderment, at Dominic. Dominic gazes back at him, face now taking on a mildly puzzled look of disgust.
“What?” Dominic asks.
Topher looks over at Paul distractedly, potato chip halfway to his mouth, and then stops. He looks him up and down; taking in his still-wide eyes, his gaping jaw, his shell-shocked expression, the one pointing arm still hanging limply in the air.
“Are you kidding me?” Topher exchanges a glance with Langton and then swiftly returns to staring at Paul. “I mean, seriously? Are you telling me he never figured it out?”
A note of incredulous laughter has started to creep into Topher’s voice by the last sentence - Paul responds as best he can with spluttering, indignant sounds of protest.
“You okay, Ballard?” Langton offers, mildly.
With herculean effort, he manages to close his own mouth.
“You and DeWitt?” he squawks at Dominic. “You two are together? At work?” He makes a flailing gesture. “How long has this been going on?”
“Oh my god, he really didn’t know.” Topher gives an all-out trill of laughter now. “Oh man.” He grins at Langton, Dominic, and then back at Paul, munching on potato chips and clearly very amused. “I’m sorry; who did you work for again, before you came to us? Something about the Federal Bureau of…oh, I always forget that last word.”
“What, was I supposed to find it obvious?” he demands, irritated. Topher’s eyebrows go up as he ducks his head a little, the better to give him a dubious stare.
“Um…yeah?” In a stilted tone, he goes, “I dunno, maybe if you have eyes.”
“Oh, come on now, Topher,” Dominic interjects self-defensively, fixing his friend with an “enough is enough” look. “We’re not exactly making out in the halls.”
“Noo, not exactly, but, ah…I’m sure there’s more than a few pieces of office furniture whose tensile strength has been sorely tested.” Topher tilts his head to the side, gazing downward with a pointed contradictory tone.
Dominic’s expression changes. Langton doesn’t move a muscle, but his eyes roll ceiling-ward.
Paul turns his head sharply, eyes widening again as he gives Topher a startled frown.
“Wait, what-?”
“I think that’s about enough of that,” DeWitt cuts in smoothly, appearing at last from the bedroom. Her appearance is a little jarring to Paul’s eyes since she’s evidently borrowed from Dominic’s wardrobe, an old pair of sweatpants and a faded t-shirt draped over her delicate frame.
With the same calm, brisk manner as if she was still in her office at the Dollhouse, and not at all woken late at night in the apartment of her lover with whom she is having an apparently well-known office fling, DeWitt crosses the living room and seats herself on the couch.
“Now; there was some matter of importance which you needed to tell me."
“I’m afraid to report we’ve had an incident, involving one of the Actives,” Langton begins. “X-Ray.”
DeWitt’s brow creases ever so slightly. “Not usually one of our trouble cases.”
“No, which is only what makes what happened all the more disturbing.” Langton absently spreads both hands. “Apparently he woke up earlier this evening and-”
“Wait, he woke up?” Dominic interrupts. “In his pod? That’s not supposed to be able to happen.”
Langton nods. “Exactly.”
“Unfortunately only the beginning of it, by the look of things,” DeWitt ascertains, exchanging a brief look with her former head of security before turning back to her current one. “Go on.”
“As best as we can tell, he had a sort of…glitch. A memory reoccurrence. Some part of the imprint from his last engagement wasn’t completely wiped, it resurfaced and he made an escape attempt,” Langton informs them. “He made it all the way out of the building and well into downtown before anyone was able to stop him.”
“How is that even possible?” Dominic demands, arms tightly folded. He looks over at Topher, making it clear the question is mostly for him.
Topher quickly gestures with his one free arm, dropping a bag in the process. Cheddar popcorn goes spilling across the carpet. “Hey, I checked him when he got out of the chair - all the usual neurological and visual diagnostics. He came back clean, I’m telling you: innocent and docile as the day he was born.”
“Well, evidently not, if he decided to make a break for it,” Dominic retorts. Topher makes a face, rolling his eyes.
“Well, okay. Yes. But not for lack of me keeping an eye on him, is what I’m saying. Whatever happened, it must’ve been through some irregularity in the system…some new failing I’ve never even seen before.”
He gestures with both hands now, the root beer making a dangerous sloshing noise.
“I guess what must have happened is that he retained some underlying neurological fabric of the imprint. Some weak residual traces, which were at first buried underneath the stronger whole of the normal Active state. These traces, I suppose, must’ve then somehow multiplied, spreading out across the already malleable tabula rasa consciousness, until they manifested and were able to take control, helped along by the relaxed state of the brain present at rest.”
“‘Guessing’ and ‘supposing’ aren’t good enough, Topher,” Dominic states, incensed. “If what I’m gathering from this is true, this incident was a near disaster for the House.”
“Okay, Dom - what would you like me to tell you?” Topher replies, defensive. “I can’t know anything until I get a peek at the inside of X-Ray’s head. We were on our way over here while security was still hustling him back to the House.”
“He was recovered safely, then,” DeWitt asks, looking back at Langton, who nods.
“Yes, ma’am. We discovered he was gone fairly quickly, and as far as we can tell he had minimal contact with anyone and did nothing to draw any attention to himself or the House.”
“No damage to the Active?” DeWitt continues. “He didn’t hurt anyone?”
Langton shakes his head. “No violent tendencies at all. He seemed mostly frightened and confused.”
“Well, who could blame him?” Topher gives a short chuckle, cutting off when Langton frowns at him with, an awkward clearing of his throat.
“This isn’t good.” Dominic has the exact same posture Paul has seen him take so many times at work; considering the wildly different circumstances, it’s unnerving to the point of being creepy. “Not only do we have a previously complication-free Active manifesting in errors and erratic behavior we’ve never even seen before…this is a security nightmare. As far as I can tell from what you’re telling me, the only thing that kept the secrecy of the House intact tonight was sheer dumb luck. If X-Ray ran into anyone who recognized him, or disappeared, or did something to attract the attention of the authorities-”
“Yes, I believe we’re all aware of the implications, Laurence,” DeWitt speaks over him, firmly, and he obediently cuts himself off.
Paul exchanges a sideways glance with Topher, who seems just as bemused by the first name as he.
Then again, she probably doesn’t feel as if she can appropriately use “Mr. Dominic” in reference to a man whose clothes she’s currently wearing - whose bed she was clearly sleeping in only moments beforehand, and with all that insinuates.
Paul thinks he may feel a headache coming on, as his brain struggles to adapt to this highly unexpected development.
It’s not so much that he didn’t know DeWitt and Dominic were close, or that they didn’t have history - it’s just that his imagination was never willing to bend it that way.
It’s just that they both have always seemed so utterly, unfailingly professional, and a long-term sexually-charged affair, particularly one that seemingly most if not all of their employees know about…the amount of complications it opens them up to is staggering.
All he can really conclude is that they either must care about each other a lot, or it must be really, really great sex; otherwise - well, he just doesn’t see it being worth it.
“All right.” DeWitt speaks, bringing him out of his dazed fog. “What we need now is to figure out what to do next.”
It’s downright amazing, her ability to look so collected and commanding while sitting there with sleep-mussed hair and wearing an oversized navy blue t-shirt with a faded picture of Snoopy hugging Woodstock.
“Topher, obviously your first priority is to begin running your diagnostics on X-Ray immediately, figuring out how exactly this happened and what must be done to prevent it in the future.”
The tech nods. “Of course.” He pauses, rubbing the heels of his palms together. “And, uh, after I’ve finished with my examinations…?” When no one says anything at first, he shrugs, elaborating: “What do you want me to do with him?”
Dominic turns toward DeWitt.
“The Attic?”
From his guarded, careful tone, it’s impossible to tell what his feelings are on that suggestion.
DeWitt considers, and quickly shakes her head. “No; I want to know for certain what exactly happened first. There’s no need to punish X-Ray for something that may’ve had nothing to do with his specific makeup.” She looks up again.
“Mr. Langton, I want you and the rest of the security team to do a thorough sweep of the area where the Active escaped to. Interview everyone who saw him, everyone he may have had contact with - I want nothing left to chance, understand? By the time you’re finished, you should be able to tell me with complete and total confidence that this is not going to come back to haunt us later on.”
“I’ll do my very best, Ms. DeWitt,” Langton responds.
“I want it done,” she repeats, severe. After a pause, she sinks back into the cushions with a sigh, and she continues, “Laurence will be along to offer you whatever help he can, as soon as we return to the House.”
“Wait; you’re…coming to work right now?” Paul questions, incredulous. “That’s not really necessary. I think we’ve got it all under control-”
“Don’t be absurd, Mr. Ballard,” she cuts him off sharply. She frowns, crossing one leg over the other. “This is an incident of significant implications for my House, and I’m certainly not going to sit back and let it run its course without closely overseeing the matter. It’s my responsibility, after all.”
She turns to Dominic - Paul just catches a hint of a smirk and an odd gleam in his eyes before he swiftly shifts back to his stern, ready-for-orders mask.
“You realize we’re going to have to inform the Center,” DeWitt says to him, softly. Dominic frowns, obviously displeased.
“Adelle, I don’t think that’s automatically necessary until we-”
“Necessary?” she repeats, cutting him off with a gentle but clearly skeptical tone. “One Active gone completely off-grid without the slightest warning, setting off a chain reaction that could’ve very well exposed the entire House?” She sighs again. “No; I’m afraid there’s no covering up this one. Not from them.”
“You know what they’ll do,” Dominic says sharply. “When they hear about this.”
DeWitt nods. “An inquiry. An investigation, most likely; some higher-up busybody coming in and poking about my affairs.”
“Our affairs,” Dominic stresses, somehow managing to show no trace of irony. “Needless to say there’s…more than a couple things going on that might raise a few eyebrows. There could be consequences for a lot of people, if any of it was found out.”
Paul suddenly gets the full implication of what he’s saying. Not just DeWitt and Dominic, but Topher and Ivy - hell, him and Madeline. And then there’s Dr. Saunders, and the “glitches” going on with Victor and Sierra…and Echo.
“I understand your concerns, believe me. I’ve very thoroughly weighed them. But there’s simply no choice.”
She doesn’t look at any of them, but straight ahead and slightly down, gaze blank.
“All I can do now is hope that things go for the best…for all the people under my authority.”
Dominic eyes her for a moment. And then he moves closer, reaching down and resting a hand on her shoulder and rubbing his thumb across her skin in a gesture that’s just as clearly meant to comfort as it is very personal.
It seems almost silly - but for the two of them, and the level of intimacy conveyed by the way their bodies so automatically adjust, Dominic may as well have swept DeWitt off her feet and starting madly kissing her.
Paul is, by now, very thoroughly willing to admit he may be a bit of an idiot.
DeWitt rests her hand atop Dominic’s for a moment, giving his a brief squeeze, and then she draws her breath and rises to her feet.
“You had all best get back to the House,” she orders - Langton and Topher are nodding and already moving toward the exit, the latter making a brief pause to deposit his snack foods on the coffee table. “We’ll tidy up and be along as soon as humanly possible.”
“See you in a few,” Dominic adds, nodding, for some reason mainly looking at Topher - who responds with two thumbs up and an overly bright fake smile.
“Ooh, looking forward to it!”
Dominic scowls. “I believe you all know the way to the door?”
They take the hint, and leave.
Last one out, Paul glances back. Dominic and DeWitt are headed back into the bedroom. Dominic pauses, allowing her to go first, and then places his hand on the middle of her upper back.
Paul is all the way out in the car again with Topher and Langton, and is driving along, before he goes:
“So…how long has that been going on, then?”
“Wow. Um, since before you’ve been here.” Topher laces his fingers, placing hands behind his head. “I still can’t believe you never figured it out. I mean, I know Madeline’s said stuff about them to you before - I’ve overheard her!”
“Hell, I’ve said things to you,” Langton chimes in, eyebrows raised.
“But I don’t think you ever actually said it was like that,” Paul protests. “I always just took it as a joke, or a reference to their working relationship in general.”
Then he stops, blinking.
“Hey, wait - when I first started working here, Dominic was an imprint that regularly showed up in different bodies.”
The corner of Topher’s mouth quirks.
“Uh, yeah?”
Paul comes dangerously close to swerving completely off the road.
Title: Getting the Wake-Up Call
Characters: Ballard, Topher, DeWitt, Dominic, Langton, mention of others; DeWitt/Dominic with passing mention of Topher/Ivy and Ballard/Madeline
Rating: PG-13 for mild sexual overtones and some language
Length: 4,080 words
Spoilers: first season (AU for 1x13, "Epitaph One")
Notes: part of Waking 'verse
Summary: An incident at the Dollhouse leaves Paul looking for Ms. DeWitt in the middle of the night...and her eventual whereabouts make clear a few astonishing things to him.
To note that there are a lot of things Paul dislikes about working for the Dollhouse would be an understatement, to say the least.
The dubious if not downright nonexistent morals. The deception and enslavement of confused innocent victims. The reduction of human beings to little more than livestock catalogued and trotted about with no dignity. The subjection of forcible recruits to something levels beyond brainwashing, without any second thoughts or regard for them whatsoever.
Circumstances have brought him to where he knows his best chance to shut the place down comes from the inside. He’s been here for almost a year now, and every day he’s been watching, waiting, just looking for an opening.
It’s not as easy as he might’ve once thought. The Dollhouse is a tightly-run organization with virtually no weak spots, or none big enough to be the ticket he’s looking for, anyway.
And much as it kills him sometimes, Paul knows he needs to wait for the right opportunity. He has to make the moment count when he gets it, bring the Dollhouse down in one fell swoop, because he knows he isn’t going to get a second chance.
Because he knows what’ll happen, if or when he gets caught. A bullet between the eyes would be the kinder fate they could give him.
However, once he gets past all of the main and prominent evils that go on there, all of the moral outrage, instinctive revulsion and personal feelings of disgust…there are still some other, major problems Paul has with working at the Dollhouse.
Namely; how it seems like anything, and everything, is constantly finding whole new ways to go wrong.
“We’ve got a problem,” Paul states in a brisk voice, stepping into the imprint lab.
Topher doesn’t look up from where he’s rapidly typing at his equipment by the chair, fingers flying and eyes focused distantly on the screen.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” the tech replies shortly. “I’m already bringing up the specs from X-Ray’s last engagement, the stats recorded at his last wipe…” He makes a sardonic sound. “I may have no idea what went wrong, or how, but rest assured, the minute they get him back here I’ll be ready to run every diagnostic I can think of and figure it out.”
“That’s not what I mean,” he says, causing Topher to finally look up at him. “This level of a problem - it can’t wait until morning. DeWitt has to be notified.”
There’s a pause as Topher gazes at him blankly.
“And, you thought you needed to clear this past me, because…” Topher says at length, giving him both a confused and annoyed expression.
He shakes his head impatiently. “DeWitt has to be notified, and I can’t get a hold of her,” he clarifies, stressing. “There’s no pick-up at her home phone number and she’s not answering her cell.”
“Ah. I see. Now that’s different.” Topher scratches his chin a moment, considering, and then he drops his hand with a sigh.
“Guess there’s nothing else for it: as persnickety as she’ll get over being disturbed in her private domain, she’ll pull a total Miranda Priestly on us if she only hears about all this tomorrow. We’ll just have to go and get her.”
Topher grabs his jacket, gesturing indifferently at him. “You drive. We’ll pick up Boyd along the way.”
“You know where DeWitt lives?” he has to ask, surprised, as they head toward the elevator. Topher makes a face.
“Yeah. Not to mention the second most likely place where she’ll be.”
They call Langton as they’re on their way over. He’s already waiting for them at the corner of the street.
“The retrieved X-Ray successfully,” Langton tells them, as he gets into the backseat behind Paul. “They’re on their way back to the House with him right now.”
“Any real damage?” He looks in the mirror to meet the other man’s eyes.
Langton shakes his head. “It doesn’t look like he did much to call any attention upon him. And as far as I saw, the Active himself is fine.”
“Besides the part where he behaved in a wildly and erratically unpredicted fashion, you mean?” Topher quips.
Langton just looks at him. “Yeah. Besides that.”
“Where am I going, anyway?” he asks, as they pull up to a major intersection. Langton starts to say something but Topher interjects.
“I figure we might as well swing by Dom’s first,” the tech goes. Topher glances back at Langton, shrugging, and the other gives an acquiescing nod. “It’s closer.”
“What?” He frowns. “Why would we need Dominic’s input on this?”
“Uh, we don’t? Not really.” Topher gives him that patented look of annoyed superiority. “But it’s a little thing called convenience, Ballard.”
He doesn’t get that in the slightest, but he figures it’s easier to go along than sit there and try to get a reasonable explanation out of Topher. He drives where they tell him to drive.
Dominic lives on one of the upper floors of a fairly upscale apartment building. He doesn’t bother being surprised that Topher heads straight for the door, obviously knowing where he’s going.
After almost two minutes of knocking, Langton offers, “Maybe they’re not here.”
“Nuh uh.” Topher cranes his head, eyes narrowed as he listens. “I hear movement.”
Topher steps back just in time as the door swings open and Dominic’s standing there, glaring at them in astonishment.
“What do you all want?” Dominic demands. They’ve obviously awoken him, seeing as he’s in a sleeveless undershirt and sweatpants, his feet bare.
“Emergency at the House,” Langton explains shortly. Dominic’s expression shifts slightly, and he folds his arms over his chest as he leans against the doorframe, eyeing them all with more focus.
“What kind of emergency? What’s happened?”
“Rogue Active,” Paul puts in.
“Not the dangerous kind,” Topher is quick to add, as Dominic’s face shifts again with sharp alarm. “No, this was more of just…an odd little glitch. A technological hiccup, one might say.”
“Still, it’s nothing minor,” Langton says. “We need to talk to DeWitt.”
Dominic nods, understanding, and takes a step back. Paul expects him to close the door in their faces, making them wait in the hall while he gets dressed - and Paul’s honestly a little curious how long that’ll be; he’s half-tempted to use his wristwatch and time how long it takes Dominic to reappear in one of his standard impeccable suits.
But to his surprise, Dominic leaves the door ajar in invitation for them to enter, and Topher and Langton do so without hesitation. Confused but certainly not wanting to be left outside, Paul follows.
While Langton and Topher come to a stop in the living room area, Dominic keeps going and disappears in the direction of what he guesses must be the bedroom.
Langton merely stands there, patiently waiting. Topher goes into the kitchen without pause, grabbing a bottle out of the fridge, and starts rummaging through the cupboard.
“Anybody want some potato chips? Barbeque or sour cream.”
Paul glances around, rubbing his arm and feeling a little awkward.
There are some pretty standard pieces of print art on the walls, a sofa, a few armchairs, a big-screen TV - actually, it kind of looks like his apartment. Though there’s a nice decorative throw over the back of the sofa that doesn’t match what he would’ve expected of Dominic’s tastes at all. There’s a bookshelf next to a desk, upon which is a computer and a docking station for an MP3 player. A few photographs in simple black frames are dotted about.
He goes over and picks up the nearest one. It’s a picture he guesses must’ve been taken about five or six years ago, of Dominic and his younger stepsister, Nicole - he stands behind her hugging her around the middle and her hands rest atop his arms, as they both look into the camera with the open-mouthed smiles and bright eyes indicative of being in the midst of laughter.
“You want me to dig out my high school yearbook so you can poke through that too?”
He turns at the sound of Dominic’s sardonic voice, and finds the other man standing across the room glowering at him.
“Sorry,” he apologizes, quickly setting the picture back. Dominic’s eyes track the movement, a spark showing he recognizes which photo Paul was examining. But he doesn’t say anything else, and his face gives away no emotion besides irritation.
Topher comes over and stands right beside Dominic, munching on something out of the three open bags of snack food shoved into his arms, one hand holding a bottle of root beer. Dominic gives him a look, but doesn’t say anything to him, either.
Paul clears his throat. “Aren’t you going to get dressed?” he asks, indicating the fact that the other man is still in the same state they found him.
Dominic frowns back at him, brow furrowing. “Why?”
“Because,” Paul says, impatient, “we don’t have time to mess around here. We need to speak with DeWitt still, and-”
“I can hear you just fine, Mr. Ballard,” a very familiar voice trails out from the bedroom - crisp British accent making the subtle note of wry sarcasm all the more effective. “And I’m coming along as fast as I can.”
Paul stops completely dead, mid-word and mid-motion.
Slowly, gradually, with very wide eyes, he leans ever so slightly to the left.
He can just see into Dominic’s bedroom. And what he sees is Adelle DeWitt, sitting on the opposite side of the unmade bed with her back to the door. He gets a glimpse of pale skin as she pulls a shirt on over her head.
Dominic follows his gaze, and then takes a purposeful step back so he’s blocking Paul’s view with his body, giving a dark glare.
It’s all Paul can do to stand there.
“She’s…you’re…you two are…oh. Oh.”
He thinks he feels the same emotion he might if a complete stranger walked up to him on the street and, without introduction or warning, slapped him right in the face.
He gazes, floundering beyond bewilderment, at Dominic. Dominic gazes back at him, face now taking on a mildly puzzled look of disgust.
“What?” Dominic asks.
Topher looks over at Paul distractedly, potato chip halfway to his mouth, and then stops. He looks him up and down; taking in his still-wide eyes, his gaping jaw, his shell-shocked expression, the one pointing arm still hanging limply in the air.
“Are you kidding me?” Topher exchanges a glance with Langton and then swiftly returns to staring at Paul. “I mean, seriously? Are you telling me he never figured it out?”
A note of incredulous laughter has started to creep into Topher’s voice by the last sentence - Paul responds as best he can with spluttering, indignant sounds of protest.
“You okay, Ballard?” Langton offers, mildly.
With herculean effort, he manages to close his own mouth.
“You and DeWitt?” he squawks at Dominic. “You two are together? At work?” He makes a flailing gesture. “How long has this been going on?”
“Oh my god, he really didn’t know.” Topher gives an all-out trill of laughter now. “Oh man.” He grins at Langton, Dominic, and then back at Paul, munching on potato chips and clearly very amused. “I’m sorry; who did you work for again, before you came to us? Something about the Federal Bureau of…oh, I always forget that last word.”
“What, was I supposed to find it obvious?” he demands, irritated. Topher’s eyebrows go up as he ducks his head a little, the better to give him a dubious stare.
“Um…yeah?” In a stilted tone, he goes, “I dunno, maybe if you have eyes.”
“Oh, come on now, Topher,” Dominic interjects self-defensively, fixing his friend with an “enough is enough” look. “We’re not exactly making out in the halls.”
“Noo, not exactly, but, ah…I’m sure there’s more than a few pieces of office furniture whose tensile strength has been sorely tested.” Topher tilts his head to the side, gazing downward with a pointed contradictory tone.
Dominic’s expression changes. Langton doesn’t move a muscle, but his eyes roll ceiling-ward.
Paul turns his head sharply, eyes widening again as he gives Topher a startled frown.
“Wait, what-?”
“I think that’s about enough of that,” DeWitt cuts in smoothly, appearing at last from the bedroom. Her appearance is a little jarring to Paul’s eyes since she’s evidently borrowed from Dominic’s wardrobe, an old pair of sweatpants and a faded t-shirt draped over her delicate frame.
With the same calm, brisk manner as if she was still in her office at the Dollhouse, and not at all woken late at night in the apartment of her lover with whom she is having an apparently well-known office fling, DeWitt crosses the living room and seats herself on the couch.
“Now; there was some matter of importance which you needed to tell me."
“I’m afraid to report we’ve had an incident, involving one of the Actives,” Langton begins. “X-Ray.”
DeWitt’s brow creases ever so slightly. “Not usually one of our trouble cases.”
“No, which is only what makes what happened all the more disturbing.” Langton absently spreads both hands. “Apparently he woke up earlier this evening and-”
“Wait, he woke up?” Dominic interrupts. “In his pod? That’s not supposed to be able to happen.”
Langton nods. “Exactly.”
“Unfortunately only the beginning of it, by the look of things,” DeWitt ascertains, exchanging a brief look with her former head of security before turning back to her current one. “Go on.”
“As best as we can tell, he had a sort of…glitch. A memory reoccurrence. Some part of the imprint from his last engagement wasn’t completely wiped, it resurfaced and he made an escape attempt,” Langton informs them. “He made it all the way out of the building and well into downtown before anyone was able to stop him.”
“How is that even possible?” Dominic demands, arms tightly folded. He looks over at Topher, making it clear the question is mostly for him.
Topher quickly gestures with his one free arm, dropping a bag in the process. Cheddar popcorn goes spilling across the carpet. “Hey, I checked him when he got out of the chair - all the usual neurological and visual diagnostics. He came back clean, I’m telling you: innocent and docile as the day he was born.”
“Well, evidently not, if he decided to make a break for it,” Dominic retorts. Topher makes a face, rolling his eyes.
“Well, okay. Yes. But not for lack of me keeping an eye on him, is what I’m saying. Whatever happened, it must’ve been through some irregularity in the system…some new failing I’ve never even seen before.”
He gestures with both hands now, the root beer making a dangerous sloshing noise.
“I guess what must have happened is that he retained some underlying neurological fabric of the imprint. Some weak residual traces, which were at first buried underneath the stronger whole of the normal Active state. These traces, I suppose, must’ve then somehow multiplied, spreading out across the already malleable tabula rasa consciousness, until they manifested and were able to take control, helped along by the relaxed state of the brain present at rest.”
“‘Guessing’ and ‘supposing’ aren’t good enough, Topher,” Dominic states, incensed. “If what I’m gathering from this is true, this incident was a near disaster for the House.”
“Okay, Dom - what would you like me to tell you?” Topher replies, defensive. “I can’t know anything until I get a peek at the inside of X-Ray’s head. We were on our way over here while security was still hustling him back to the House.”
“He was recovered safely, then,” DeWitt asks, looking back at Langton, who nods.
“Yes, ma’am. We discovered he was gone fairly quickly, and as far as we can tell he had minimal contact with anyone and did nothing to draw any attention to himself or the House.”
“No damage to the Active?” DeWitt continues. “He didn’t hurt anyone?”
Langton shakes his head. “No violent tendencies at all. He seemed mostly frightened and confused.”
“Well, who could blame him?” Topher gives a short chuckle, cutting off when Langton frowns at him with, an awkward clearing of his throat.
“This isn’t good.” Dominic has the exact same posture Paul has seen him take so many times at work; considering the wildly different circumstances, it’s unnerving to the point of being creepy. “Not only do we have a previously complication-free Active manifesting in errors and erratic behavior we’ve never even seen before…this is a security nightmare. As far as I can tell from what you’re telling me, the only thing that kept the secrecy of the House intact tonight was sheer dumb luck. If X-Ray ran into anyone who recognized him, or disappeared, or did something to attract the attention of the authorities-”
“Yes, I believe we’re all aware of the implications, Laurence,” DeWitt speaks over him, firmly, and he obediently cuts himself off.
Paul exchanges a sideways glance with Topher, who seems just as bemused by the first name as he.
Then again, she probably doesn’t feel as if she can appropriately use “Mr. Dominic” in reference to a man whose clothes she’s currently wearing - whose bed she was clearly sleeping in only moments beforehand, and with all that insinuates.
Paul thinks he may feel a headache coming on, as his brain struggles to adapt to this highly unexpected development.
It’s not so much that he didn’t know DeWitt and Dominic were close, or that they didn’t have history - it’s just that his imagination was never willing to bend it that way.
It’s just that they both have always seemed so utterly, unfailingly professional, and a long-term sexually-charged affair, particularly one that seemingly most if not all of their employees know about…the amount of complications it opens them up to is staggering.
All he can really conclude is that they either must care about each other a lot, or it must be really, really great sex; otherwise - well, he just doesn’t see it being worth it.
“All right.” DeWitt speaks, bringing him out of his dazed fog. “What we need now is to figure out what to do next.”
It’s downright amazing, her ability to look so collected and commanding while sitting there with sleep-mussed hair and wearing an oversized navy blue t-shirt with a faded picture of Snoopy hugging Woodstock.
“Topher, obviously your first priority is to begin running your diagnostics on X-Ray immediately, figuring out how exactly this happened and what must be done to prevent it in the future.”
The tech nods. “Of course.” He pauses, rubbing the heels of his palms together. “And, uh, after I’ve finished with my examinations…?” When no one says anything at first, he shrugs, elaborating: “What do you want me to do with him?”
Dominic turns toward DeWitt.
“The Attic?”
From his guarded, careful tone, it’s impossible to tell what his feelings are on that suggestion.
DeWitt considers, and quickly shakes her head. “No; I want to know for certain what exactly happened first. There’s no need to punish X-Ray for something that may’ve had nothing to do with his specific makeup.” She looks up again.
“Mr. Langton, I want you and the rest of the security team to do a thorough sweep of the area where the Active escaped to. Interview everyone who saw him, everyone he may have had contact with - I want nothing left to chance, understand? By the time you’re finished, you should be able to tell me with complete and total confidence that this is not going to come back to haunt us later on.”
“I’ll do my very best, Ms. DeWitt,” Langton responds.
“I want it done,” she repeats, severe. After a pause, she sinks back into the cushions with a sigh, and she continues, “Laurence will be along to offer you whatever help he can, as soon as we return to the House.”
“Wait; you’re…coming to work right now?” Paul questions, incredulous. “That’s not really necessary. I think we’ve got it all under control-”
“Don’t be absurd, Mr. Ballard,” she cuts him off sharply. She frowns, crossing one leg over the other. “This is an incident of significant implications for my House, and I’m certainly not going to sit back and let it run its course without closely overseeing the matter. It’s my responsibility, after all.”
She turns to Dominic - Paul just catches a hint of a smirk and an odd gleam in his eyes before he swiftly shifts back to his stern, ready-for-orders mask.
“You realize we’re going to have to inform the Center,” DeWitt says to him, softly. Dominic frowns, obviously displeased.
“Adelle, I don’t think that’s automatically necessary until we-”
“Necessary?” she repeats, cutting him off with a gentle but clearly skeptical tone. “One Active gone completely off-grid without the slightest warning, setting off a chain reaction that could’ve very well exposed the entire House?” She sighs again. “No; I’m afraid there’s no covering up this one. Not from them.”
“You know what they’ll do,” Dominic says sharply. “When they hear about this.”
DeWitt nods. “An inquiry. An investigation, most likely; some higher-up busybody coming in and poking about my affairs.”
“Our affairs,” Dominic stresses, somehow managing to show no trace of irony. “Needless to say there’s…more than a couple things going on that might raise a few eyebrows. There could be consequences for a lot of people, if any of it was found out.”
Paul suddenly gets the full implication of what he’s saying. Not just DeWitt and Dominic, but Topher and Ivy - hell, him and Madeline. And then there’s Dr. Saunders, and the “glitches” going on with Victor and Sierra…and Echo.
“I understand your concerns, believe me. I’ve very thoroughly weighed them. But there’s simply no choice.”
She doesn’t look at any of them, but straight ahead and slightly down, gaze blank.
“All I can do now is hope that things go for the best…for all the people under my authority.”
Dominic eyes her for a moment. And then he moves closer, reaching down and resting a hand on her shoulder and rubbing his thumb across her skin in a gesture that’s just as clearly meant to comfort as it is very personal.
It seems almost silly - but for the two of them, and the level of intimacy conveyed by the way their bodies so automatically adjust, Dominic may as well have swept DeWitt off her feet and starting madly kissing her.
Paul is, by now, very thoroughly willing to admit he may be a bit of an idiot.
DeWitt rests her hand atop Dominic’s for a moment, giving his a brief squeeze, and then she draws her breath and rises to her feet.
“You had all best get back to the House,” she orders - Langton and Topher are nodding and already moving toward the exit, the latter making a brief pause to deposit his snack foods on the coffee table. “We’ll tidy up and be along as soon as humanly possible.”
“See you in a few,” Dominic adds, nodding, for some reason mainly looking at Topher - who responds with two thumbs up and an overly bright fake smile.
“Ooh, looking forward to it!”
Dominic scowls. “I believe you all know the way to the door?”
They take the hint, and leave.
Last one out, Paul glances back. Dominic and DeWitt are headed back into the bedroom. Dominic pauses, allowing her to go first, and then places his hand on the middle of her upper back.
Paul is all the way out in the car again with Topher and Langton, and is driving along, before he goes:
“So…how long has that been going on, then?”
“Wow. Um, since before you’ve been here.” Topher laces his fingers, placing hands behind his head. “I still can’t believe you never figured it out. I mean, I know Madeline’s said stuff about them to you before - I’ve overheard her!”
“Hell, I’ve said things to you,” Langton chimes in, eyebrows raised.
“But I don’t think you ever actually said it was like that,” Paul protests. “I always just took it as a joke, or a reference to their working relationship in general.”
Then he stops, blinking.
“Hey, wait - when I first started working here, Dominic was an imprint that regularly showed up in different bodies.”
The corner of Topher’s mouth quirks.
“Uh, yeah?”
Paul comes dangerously close to swerving completely off the road.