DOLLHOUSE: Blood and Tears
Title: Blood and Tears
Characters/Pairing: Claire and Topher
Word Count: 855
Rating: PG
Summary: It's been a week since Alpha appeared in the Dollhouse again, and Claire hasn't slept through a single night.
Notes: Written for yetregressing for the alphabet drabble meme. Set shortly after "Omega".
Disclaimer: Dollhouse and all characters belong to Joss Whedon. I am not Joss Whedon, and am not making any money from this.
Claire wakes up to hear a high, soft whimper somewhere nearby. It takes her a second or two to realize that it's her, and when she does, she swallows hard, chokes it off. She holds her breath and waits for the silence to settle in around her again before she slides out of bed and begins to get dressed. She's getting uncomfortably used to this. It's been a week since Alpha appeared in the Dollhouse again, and she hasn't slept through a single night.
As she tugs on her labcoat, she can't help but reach up to her face, one finger tracing over the scar on her cheek. She'd half expected to find open wounds, not scars, but when she pulls her hand away, there's no blood. She wipes her hand off on her lapcoat anyway though there's nothing there, an almost unconscious gesture, and steps out of her tiny sleeping area into the hall, tugging the door shut behind her.
The back hallways are dark, quiet and empty, entirely unsurprisingly. It's four in the morning, after all. No one is awake in the Dollhouse at four in the morning except for the security staff and her. She likes it that way. This morning, though, as she steps through the door in the back of her office, her attention is immediately drawn to a light on the second floor, across the house. Topher's domain, and just what he's doing both here and awake at this hour, she doesn't want to know. She's almost certain his work ethic is nowhere near that strong.
Unless maybe he's found something particularly entertaining. One more thing she doesn't want to know about. She walks to the door, footsteps almost silent even on the hardwood, and gently closes it before flicking on a light and moving back to her desk. She has reports to write, if not many at this point. If nothing else, all the nightmares are doing wonders for her job productivity.
She's been sitting there for half an hour, staring at the keyboard and forcing herself not to look at the door or listen for footsteps outside her office, because there's no one there and nothing to worry about, when the phone rings. She doesn't scream, but only because her throat locks up as her whole body jerks backward. The phone rings again, and forces herself to relax, shooting the phone a glare like it's personally responsible for all of this. Claire takes a breath and reaches for the receiver.
"This is Dr. Saunders."
"Yeah, I noticed from how it's... your office I'm calling."
Claire grimaces and almost hangs up. Instead, she sighs, glancing in the vague direction of Topher's office. There's a wall in the way, and he can't possibly see her from here. Which means he's only calling because he noticed the lights on in her office. She knew she should have just gone ahead and worked in the dark. "What do you want, Topher?"
"You're... awake."
"So are you."
"Yeah, but you went to bed... what, three hours ago?"
Claire moves before she even thinks, stalking to the window with the phone still in hand, and there he is at the window of his own office, the master looking out over his domain and his creations. He's looking straight at her, and she glares back. "Are you stalking me?"
"I just... happened to notice!" he answers, a touch too defensive. She can't read his expression from here. "It's not like I have to go out of my way..."
Realization sinks in, sudden and bitter. "You're monitoring me. Afraid I'm starting to lose it? Starting to wonder if my brain needs a tune up?" She doesn't give him a chance to answer. She hangs up the phone, eyes locked on his across the building. He doesn't call her back, just stands there, staring down at her, and after a moment, Claire shakes her head and turns to stalk back to her desk.
Her hands are shaking when she sits down. She wonders if Topher would still be able to pull up her vital signs if he wanted. If he's looking at a computer screen right now and reading anger, disgust, fear... She is fine. She is fine and functional and she doesn't have a choice in the matter, because if she's not, they'll find another use for the broken Doll. If Topher walked down here now and said the word "treatment", would she be able to say no? She can't say for sure, but she knows she'd do anything to avoid that chair. She hasn't slept a night since Alpha, and she is going to keep every damn one of those awful, bloody nightmares because they are hers.
After a minute or two, she notices her cheeks are wet. She reaches up a hand and scrubs at them, taking a few deep breaths and struggling back to some semblance of calm. There's no earthly reason it should be blood on her face instead of tears, but she glances at her fingers anyway when she drops her hand to the desk. Of course, there's nothing there.
Characters/Pairing: Claire and Topher
Word Count: 855
Rating: PG
Summary: It's been a week since Alpha appeared in the Dollhouse again, and Claire hasn't slept through a single night.
Notes: Written for yetregressing for the alphabet drabble meme. Set shortly after "Omega".
Disclaimer: Dollhouse and all characters belong to Joss Whedon. I am not Joss Whedon, and am not making any money from this.
Claire wakes up to hear a high, soft whimper somewhere nearby. It takes her a second or two to realize that it's her, and when she does, she swallows hard, chokes it off. She holds her breath and waits for the silence to settle in around her again before she slides out of bed and begins to get dressed. She's getting uncomfortably used to this. It's been a week since Alpha appeared in the Dollhouse again, and she hasn't slept through a single night.
As she tugs on her labcoat, she can't help but reach up to her face, one finger tracing over the scar on her cheek. She'd half expected to find open wounds, not scars, but when she pulls her hand away, there's no blood. She wipes her hand off on her lapcoat anyway though there's nothing there, an almost unconscious gesture, and steps out of her tiny sleeping area into the hall, tugging the door shut behind her.
The back hallways are dark, quiet and empty, entirely unsurprisingly. It's four in the morning, after all. No one is awake in the Dollhouse at four in the morning except for the security staff and her. She likes it that way. This morning, though, as she steps through the door in the back of her office, her attention is immediately drawn to a light on the second floor, across the house. Topher's domain, and just what he's doing both here and awake at this hour, she doesn't want to know. She's almost certain his work ethic is nowhere near that strong.
Unless maybe he's found something particularly entertaining. One more thing she doesn't want to know about. She walks to the door, footsteps almost silent even on the hardwood, and gently closes it before flicking on a light and moving back to her desk. She has reports to write, if not many at this point. If nothing else, all the nightmares are doing wonders for her job productivity.
She's been sitting there for half an hour, staring at the keyboard and forcing herself not to look at the door or listen for footsteps outside her office, because there's no one there and nothing to worry about, when the phone rings. She doesn't scream, but only because her throat locks up as her whole body jerks backward. The phone rings again, and forces herself to relax, shooting the phone a glare like it's personally responsible for all of this. Claire takes a breath and reaches for the receiver.
"This is Dr. Saunders."
"Yeah, I noticed from how it's... your office I'm calling."
Claire grimaces and almost hangs up. Instead, she sighs, glancing in the vague direction of Topher's office. There's a wall in the way, and he can't possibly see her from here. Which means he's only calling because he noticed the lights on in her office. She knew she should have just gone ahead and worked in the dark. "What do you want, Topher?"
"You're... awake."
"So are you."
"Yeah, but you went to bed... what, three hours ago?"
Claire moves before she even thinks, stalking to the window with the phone still in hand, and there he is at the window of his own office, the master looking out over his domain and his creations. He's looking straight at her, and she glares back. "Are you stalking me?"
"I just... happened to notice!" he answers, a touch too defensive. She can't read his expression from here. "It's not like I have to go out of my way..."
Realization sinks in, sudden and bitter. "You're monitoring me. Afraid I'm starting to lose it? Starting to wonder if my brain needs a tune up?" She doesn't give him a chance to answer. She hangs up the phone, eyes locked on his across the building. He doesn't call her back, just stands there, staring down at her, and after a moment, Claire shakes her head and turns to stalk back to her desk.
Her hands are shaking when she sits down. She wonders if Topher would still be able to pull up her vital signs if he wanted. If he's looking at a computer screen right now and reading anger, disgust, fear... She is fine. She is fine and functional and she doesn't have a choice in the matter, because if she's not, they'll find another use for the broken Doll. If Topher walked down here now and said the word "treatment", would she be able to say no? She can't say for sure, but she knows she'd do anything to avoid that chair. She hasn't slept a night since Alpha, and she is going to keep every damn one of those awful, bloody nightmares because they are hers.
After a minute or two, she notices her cheeks are wet. She reaches up a hand and scrubs at them, taking a few deep breaths and struggling back to some semblance of calm. There's no earthly reason it should be blood on her face instead of tears, but she glances at her fingers anyway when she drops her hand to the desk. Of course, there's nothing there.