new: "Where Victor goes from there"
proof positive that plot bunnies swarm.
(last one for tonight, I swear)
Title: Where Victor goes from there.
Author: Keenir
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Spy in the House of Love, Briar Rose, Omega.
Disclaimer: I own none of the canon characters of the Dollhouse. The Dollhouse does not exist, and even if it did, it would not belong to me.
Summary: Claire has to decide what to do with Victor...and then she has to implement the plan.
warning: brief references to literature both modern-day and Victorian.
`~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Several days after the events of Omega:
"It is in your hands, Dr Saunders," Adelle DeWitt said to her.
"You mean Whiskey," Claire said without emotion.
Taking it in stride, "If that is what you would like me to call you. But your designation in my house is not pertinent to what future you feel would be best for Victor."
"And why is it in my hands? Because we had the same tailor work the seams of our faces?"
No smile, but Adelle said, "If that is the answer that appeals to you."
"I want the answer you'd give."
DeWitt smiled. Not a warm and welcoming smile. More the smile one gives a slow child who by now should know the answer but refuses to admit it even to themself.
"You have no one answer," Claire said.
The smile went away, replaced by a face that was encouraged how the child had picked up the essentials you'd been hoping they would. "I facilitate. You repair. We each have our functions."
Are you a Doll? Of course, if you were, would you know it? And if you knew it, would you admit it? Certainly not after what happened with Alpha and Echo. "When I'm fixing them, I'm Dr Saunders. Elsewhen, I'm Whiskey." At least for now.
Adelle nodded. "Satisfactory. And Victor?"
"I don't need a replacement. Though there should be a wedge prepped and ready for if I need a medical assistant."
DeWitt nodded as though she was taking notes in her head.
"I know Victor's useless as a standard Active," Claire said. "But there are options, professions that remain open." Careers I could have pursued as Whiskey even after this disfigurement. "Tracking and problem-solving, for example. We've had more than one client ask for the best private investigator slash detective money can buy. I know because I saw those Actives when they came back."
"And he has his voice," Adelle said, voicing a further suite of options - singer, broadcaster, the voice on the end of the radio...
"He does," Claire agreed.
"Then you'll approve, no doubt, of the client who placed a request this morning, and of what she asked for."
"What did she ask for?" Claire asked.
------
"Sherlock Holmes?" Topher repeated, asking Claire, here in Topher's office. Ivy was nowhere to be seen.
"Yes," Claire said.
"You want Victor to be Sherlock Holmes?"
"Actually the client requested Sherlock Holmes." She'd asked for a dashing, rugged Holmes, one with signs he'd lived the life he was famous for. "I just happen to think that Victor would be ideal for this job."
"You do, huh?" Topher asked. "Wouldn't the - you know... I mean, Jeremy Brett didn't have any facial scarring when he played Holmes."
"Scars, Topher," Whiskey and Claire and Dr Saunders snapped at him, correcting him.
Topher blinked, more than a little scared with the - okay, understandable there - fury she'd placed on the word.
On an impulse, a thought surfacing from - Claire wasn't sure where, but it had been down deep, worryingly so; a concern for later - Claire said "Reichenbach Falls."
Topher raised an eyebrow. "Holmes survived that."
She nodded.
He saw where she was going with this. "Fighting all the way down, and there were nasty rocks in the water, and probably less-than-polite plants around them."
"Precisely. We're not Victorian illustrators."
Topher nodded. "We can work Victor's appearance into what happened to Holmes. Oh I'm loving this, and it's probably a good thing Ivy's not here right now."
"Why is that?" Claire asked.
"She's something of a purist when it comes to adaptations from books," Topher said, running a hand over his face. "Here's some free advice: never mention Lost in Austen or Thursday Next to her," as he entered the remaining keys. "All ready. Go get Victor whenever you want, 'cause heeerreee's Sherlock!"
-----
This is not normal, not orthodox, not supposed to be, Claire thought to herself about how Victor's usual handler Ramirez was coming into the imprinting room just as the imprint was in its final seconds. But then, nothing about this is normal.
As Victor - now Sherlock - raised his head and with it his entire body above the pivot of his hips, Ramirez said, "Your face." Said it to Victor, not to Saunders - who she was used to the appearance of.
Claire sucked in a breath and refused to release it until this resolved itself. Its not a minor abrasion, and whomever briefed her about what happened, didn't spell it out.
But Victor was already extending a hand, "No no, my dear, you mustn't fret." To his handler, "Perfectly understandable. Watson always did understate my injury."
"Typical Watson," she said, yet again proving her adaptability as a handler. "You ready to go?"
"And let the game be afoot? Most assuredly so. Lead on, MacDuff."
Claire turned her head just enough to see Topher silently chuckling. Yes, Ivy will kill you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The End
(last one for tonight, I swear)
Title: Where Victor goes from there.
Author: Keenir
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Spy in the House of Love, Briar Rose, Omega.
Disclaimer: I own none of the canon characters of the Dollhouse. The Dollhouse does not exist, and even if it did, it would not belong to me.
Summary: Claire has to decide what to do with Victor...and then she has to implement the plan.
warning: brief references to literature both modern-day and Victorian.
`~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Several days after the events of Omega:
"It is in your hands, Dr Saunders," Adelle DeWitt said to her.
"You mean Whiskey," Claire said without emotion.
Taking it in stride, "If that is what you would like me to call you. But your designation in my house is not pertinent to what future you feel would be best for Victor."
"And why is it in my hands? Because we had the same tailor work the seams of our faces?"
No smile, but Adelle said, "If that is the answer that appeals to you."
"I want the answer you'd give."
DeWitt smiled. Not a warm and welcoming smile. More the smile one gives a slow child who by now should know the answer but refuses to admit it even to themself.
"You have no one answer," Claire said.
The smile went away, replaced by a face that was encouraged how the child had picked up the essentials you'd been hoping they would. "I facilitate. You repair. We each have our functions."
Are you a Doll? Of course, if you were, would you know it? And if you knew it, would you admit it? Certainly not after what happened with Alpha and Echo. "When I'm fixing them, I'm Dr Saunders. Elsewhen, I'm Whiskey." At least for now.
Adelle nodded. "Satisfactory. And Victor?"
"I don't need a replacement. Though there should be a wedge prepped and ready for if I need a medical assistant."
DeWitt nodded as though she was taking notes in her head.
"I know Victor's useless as a standard Active," Claire said. "But there are options, professions that remain open." Careers I could have pursued as Whiskey even after this disfigurement. "Tracking and problem-solving, for example. We've had more than one client ask for the best private investigator slash detective money can buy. I know because I saw those Actives when they came back."
"And he has his voice," Adelle said, voicing a further suite of options - singer, broadcaster, the voice on the end of the radio...
"He does," Claire agreed.
"Then you'll approve, no doubt, of the client who placed a request this morning, and of what she asked for."
"What did she ask for?" Claire asked.
------
"Sherlock Holmes?" Topher repeated, asking Claire, here in Topher's office. Ivy was nowhere to be seen.
"Yes," Claire said.
"You want Victor to be Sherlock Holmes?"
"Actually the client requested Sherlock Holmes." She'd asked for a dashing, rugged Holmes, one with signs he'd lived the life he was famous for. "I just happen to think that Victor would be ideal for this job."
"You do, huh?" Topher asked. "Wouldn't the - you know... I mean, Jeremy Brett didn't have any facial scarring when he played Holmes."
"Scars, Topher," Whiskey and Claire and Dr Saunders snapped at him, correcting him.
Topher blinked, more than a little scared with the - okay, understandable there - fury she'd placed on the word.
On an impulse, a thought surfacing from - Claire wasn't sure where, but it had been down deep, worryingly so; a concern for later - Claire said "Reichenbach Falls."
Topher raised an eyebrow. "Holmes survived that."
She nodded.
He saw where she was going with this. "Fighting all the way down, and there were nasty rocks in the water, and probably less-than-polite plants around them."
"Precisely. We're not Victorian illustrators."
Topher nodded. "We can work Victor's appearance into what happened to Holmes. Oh I'm loving this, and it's probably a good thing Ivy's not here right now."
"Why is that?" Claire asked.
"She's something of a purist when it comes to adaptations from books," Topher said, running a hand over his face. "Here's some free advice: never mention Lost in Austen or Thursday Next to her," as he entered the remaining keys. "All ready. Go get Victor whenever you want, 'cause heeerreee's Sherlock!"
-----
This is not normal, not orthodox, not supposed to be, Claire thought to herself about how Victor's usual handler Ramirez was coming into the imprinting room just as the imprint was in its final seconds. But then, nothing about this is normal.
As Victor - now Sherlock - raised his head and with it his entire body above the pivot of his hips, Ramirez said, "Your face." Said it to Victor, not to Saunders - who she was used to the appearance of.
Claire sucked in a breath and refused to release it until this resolved itself. Its not a minor abrasion, and whomever briefed her about what happened, didn't spell it out.
But Victor was already extending a hand, "No no, my dear, you mustn't fret." To his handler, "Perfectly understandable. Watson always did understate my injury."
"Typical Watson," she said, yet again proving her adaptability as a handler. "You ready to go?"
"And let the game be afoot? Most assuredly so. Lead on, MacDuff."
Claire turned her head just enough to see Topher silently chuckling. Yes, Ivy will kill you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The End