fic: What Was Left In The Box
Title: What Was Left In The Box
Fandom: Dollhouse
Rating: hard R
Pairings: Dewitt/Dominic. Slight Victor/Sierra.
Spoilers: “Epitaph One” like woah.
Beta: major thanks to irony_rocks for looking it over so quickly, if anything is left over that’s all me.
Disclaimer: not mine
Summary: It’s a whole new world. The problem is having to live in it. (AU for “Epitaph One”, understandably.)
What Was Left In The Box
He comes back to the House after trying to outrun the tech. He comes back because Laurence Dominic is a quick study and learned this after just a week: you can’t outrun the tech. He doesn’t crawl back to the Dollhouse, pleading for sanctuary. He breaks in and sits in DeWitt’s office, finishing her precious vodka, and waits for her.
When she sees him, half way to falling-down-drunk in her chair, she raises an eyebrow, but her mouth curls in sympathy. It makes Dominic feel fucking pathetic so he just takes another swig of vodka.
She doesn’t question him or coddle him, she just walks straight up to him and plucks the glass decanter from his hand. He watches as she tilts her head back for a drink, how her muscles slide under her skin, and imagines how the alcohol burns down her throat. She doesn’t give him the bottle back and makes her way to her couch holding the decanter’s long neck loosely between her fingers.
“How far?” she asks.
Laurence doesn’t even have to wonder what she means. “San Francisco.”
“I see.” She pauses, “I’ve never managed to visit in all my travels.”
Dominic drops his head back, eyes closing. “I always liked Fisherman’s Wharf and Alcatraz, good security system.”
Adelle laughs. It is a dry and brittle sound.
-
She finds him in the remnants of the Attic not soon after his return.
Topher used to call it The Fridge or the Box Room depending on what sci-fi show he had been watching that week. Adelle always called it the Attic, just a place to send problematic Actives (and others, he remembers that well). Langdon used to call the Attic inhuman, but never where anyone could hear him.
Laurence, he will always call it Hell.
She finds him crouched down, his gun, which never leaves his side, hanging by his left hand between his knees. All around him the Attic is shot to high heaven.
“Laurence,” she starts, standing above him and he vaguely wonders when she stopped wearing her heels all the time.
He doesn’t look up at her, doesn’t answer.
She just sighs, “Dinner is ready. Won’t you come down?”
He chuckles, shaking his head, and then just can’t seem to stop. Dinner. He begins laughing, probably maniacally, and when he lifts his head to meet her gaze he can see the fear and worry. He just keeps laughing. Dinner. The world is going ass up by something they helped perfect, and they’re living as if they’re all the fucking Brady Bunch from hell. He wants to shoot something but remembers the chamber of his gun is now empty. Standing, he sobers, tucking his gun into the back of his pants.
“Sure, dinner. Can’t wait.”
Adelle frowns at him. She does that a lot lately. “Must you be so snide?”
“It’s either snide or pissed, take your pick. And let me just remind you pissed is a lot more dangerous.” He twists his lips, walking past her.
She doesn’t let him get far, pulling him back to face her. His NSA reflexes itch for the punch, but Laurence pushes them down.
“Do you honestly think this is only happening to you, Laurence?” She glowers at him. Her voice is quiet rage and firm resolve. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard her yell, even when he shot her, and he briefly wonders what it would take to make her scream.
“Of course I don’t!” He does yell, stepping into her personal space.
She doesn’t even flinch. “Then stop bloody well acting like it! We are all down here, we’ve all been affected by what’s occurred, but we can’t very well start acting like spoiled children or angry soldiers itching for a war. We won’t survive that way.”
He snorts in disbelief, “You really think we’ll survive this, Adelle?”
He almost calls her ma’am. An old habit. One he’s desperately trying to break.
She levels her gaze at him, “What other option do we have?”
Laurence doesn’t say what the cynic in him thinks: death or becoming one of them, because he knows Adelle DeWitt and he knows that both answers would sound like they’re giving up. Like surrender.
Adelle DeWitt does neither.
-
Saunders comes up to him one day or night, he doesn’t even know anymore, and sits by his side on Topher’s couch. He’s taken to spending his time in Topher’s old work area. It’s the only place in the house that people don’t venture to anymore.
“In the beginning, when I first came here, you were my handler, weren’t you? Before they promoted you?”
Laurence sighs, “Did you read your file?”
She shakes her head, “Just a feeling.”
He smirks, “Good feeling.”
Laurence is reminded why the clients all liked her; Whiskey always had good instincts, no matter her imprint. Not in the creepy way that Alpha or Echo had, but there had just been something about her. Like she knew, understood, and accepted anything they offered up to her. He looks over to her. It appears she still has them.
She smiles, but as always it’s laced with sadness and he thinks, fucking Topher, who programmed her to only feel the most minimal amount of happiness at any given time so she wouldn’t run away. It kept her loyalty to the house. It still pisses Dominic off.
“Did you hate me, like you hated them?” she asks, nodding her head to the floor below him. He doesn’t like to spend too much time downstair on the floor. All the Actives might have their personalities back but that doesn’t mean he has to like them. Actually, he’s certain he doesn’t.
Realizing that she is waiting for his answer, he spares her a look, half smiling. “No, I didn’t hate you. It was after that I hated them. Before, it was indifference.”
“After?”
“After Alpha,” he says.
He feels Saunders nod, understanding. “Well, I’m glad you weren’t plotting my demise during every assignment.”
Laurence laughs, surprised at himself as the sound escapes him. “Wouldn’t have made me a very good handler.”
“No, probably not.” Saunders stands and smiles down at him pleasantly, heading back downstairs. He’s suddenly reminded of how Clifford, the original Saunders, used to smile. Frowning, he’s now acutely aware of a new issue.
“Hey, Doc! Why didn’t you have Topher put your original personality back?” He stands, calling her back, searching the floor for Topher, irrationally angry with the man.
She looks over her shoulder, shrugging, “The house still needed a doctor.”
“There is no more House,” he states.
“Maybe not in that sense, Mr. Dominic, but people still live here, still depend on each other. I think it’s more of a house now than it ever was before.”
He doesn’t react to her words and she leaves, leaving in him alone in Topher’s quirky old work space. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he walks towards the window where he watches as She makes her way to her office. Langdon is passing by with some tea. They smile at each other and he follows her in. Laurence rolls his eyes.
-
When Langdon disappears in a flurry of questions, Laurence knows it has to do with Echo-Caroline. The little bitch was always more trouble than she was worth.
She’s gone, disappeared and it’s too dangerous to follow her now.
Fucking hell, maybe he should have paid a little more attention to her little glitches when she was around. He’s certain they held answers. Answers they now need.
-
The tech has driven them underground, even further than before. The elevator is shut down and Adelle can no longer call her lofty office sanctuary anymore.
Not shockingly, everyone is on edge.
He thinks of San Francisco; of his mother and the bullet he put in his brother’s head. It is hell on the surface and none of them are ready.
Doesn’t help that they’re all fucking scared.
So they try to survive as best they can.
They all take their comforts where they can.
One afternoon he catches Victor and Sierra-fuck, he means Marcus and Priya clutching at each other in the old sauna when he goes down for a shower. They don’t notice him, too busy trying to get lost in the other’s body, and Laurence leaves them to it, saving his shower for later. There’s too little privacy in their little underground lair, they take what they can get.
-
Three days later he and Adelle are arguing in Topher’s old work space about Caroline, Boyd, and Topher, when Laurence realizes, the second that she calls him a “bloody prig” that he wants to kiss her. He wants to turn and push her against the desk, dragging his teeth down the back of her neck.
The image is overwhelming, and god, it’s been so fucking long since he’s even contemplated sex, what with the world ending and everything, that he starts to walk away in the middle of her sentence. He needs a cold shower, now, because kissing Adelle doesn’t seem like a bad idea all of a sudden.
And that’s exactly why he needs to go.
Adelle’s never liked it when people walk away from her, and pulls him back to her like that day in the Attic.
Laurence warns her off, eyes blazing, “Adelle, trust me, you want to let me walk away.”
She levels him with a look, her eyes searching his and he knows the exact moment she understands just why she should let him go. She doesn’t.
She steps closer to him and quirks her lips, smug. “I rather think I don’t, Laurence.”
He turns back to face her, to warn her off again, and it’s a mistake when he does. She’s looking at him with the same heat he’s trying to push down.
“Laurence,” she repeats, her accent a soft lilt that rushes down his spine and he feels the fine control he has over himself snap.
He holds her neck like he doesn’t know whether to choke her or kiss her. An old, angry side of him wants to hurt her, but a stronger and more current instinct takes over and he tilts her back, capturing her bottom lip between his.
She kisses him back.
Slow and deep, fingers curling against his jaw. She holds him to her mouth, sucking and breathing, as she steps into the kiss.
His hands relax against her neck and her fingers slide down to catch in his collar. Titling her head back, he wants to deepen the kiss and probably fuck-no, he definitely wants to fuck her against Topher’s desk. They take a step towards the couch, and he stops. Part of him thinks it’s the stupidest move he’s made yet, but he still stops.
He takes a deep breath instead, taking a step back. “Adelle, I’m-I don’t…”
She gives him an appraising look, “Are you honestly planning to apologize for that, Laurence?”
“That shouldn’t have happened, Adelle.”
She crosses her arms, “Well, I can’t very well argue that, but it did happen.” Tucking a stray hair behind her ear, she pauses, licking her lips lightly, “And I’ll even venture to say that it was a long time in the making, don’t you agree?”
He rolls his eyes, scoffing, “It’s not a question of whether I agree or not, Adelle. The point of the matter is that…look at us! Look at how we’re living. We’re hiding out in the same fucking place that ended the world and us fucking each other is not going to change that.”
Her eyes flash in anger and he knows that what’s coming next is equally as inevitable as what just happened. “I was not aware your opinion of me was so low, Laurence.” Her voice is ice cold and he suppresses a wince. He knows just what she’s capable of when crossed. “I am very well aware of our situation. How can I not be? I am no foolish teenager, thinking that what just happened between us is a cure for our current predicament. If anything it was two old friends, if we’re even that, trying to find solace in one another.”
She presses on, the line of her shoulders straight like a razor’s edge, a familiar stance, which means she’s studiously trying to keep her voice even. “This is a mad, new world we live in, and I will not apologize for taking what small comforts come to me, selfish as it maybe. You are a friend, Laurence, as much as you think the contrary.” She steps forward, passing him on his right side, her right hand trailing his shoulder. “You are not alone in this place.”
She leaves him without another word and Laurence stares at the wall, unblinking. He stares at it, trying to get his breathing under control, but doesn’t get far. He watches, detached, as his fist strikes out and makes contact. The wall dents a little under the force behind his punch and he stares at the cracked pieces as they litter the ground.
He feels the pain shoot up his arm, but he can’t associate himself with it.
Finally, something in the house looks like the world outside. Jagged, broken, sharp. He finally feels part of the pressure in his chest lessen and turns on his heels to see Saunders.
She’ll clean his hand and wrap it with the care she’s always given everyone, but for the first time, he’s willing to accept it.
-
The first night Topher wakes up with nightmares, Laurence frowns and turns over in his makeshift bed-like hell he’ll ever sleep in one of those pods-and rather cruelly, thinks the mousy man deserves it. Nobody got out of this unscathed, and he supposes that very few people in the world can actually say they helped end it. Dropping his forearm over his eyes, he doesn’t go back to sleep. Instead, he listens. He listens as Adelle’s soft footsteps make their way across the room and move towards Topher.
He can’t hear her words, but the tone in her voice is low and soothing. He counts the minutes. Topher’s babbling and low whimpers finally die down ten minutes later but he can still hear Adelle’s voice whispering to him. When she must feel it’s okay to leave the younger man alone, Dominic listens as she makes her way back to her own sleeping area. She doesn’t sleep in the pods either, but on a cot they found, situated as far from the door as possible at his insistence.
He doesn’t even attempt to sleep until her breathing evens out again.
Never does the thought occur that he is consciously waiting up for her.
-
He finds her under the stairs one day, her eyes rimmed in red. He doesn’t say anything and settles his arm around her waist. She doesn’t speak to him, but after a few minutes, she kisses him, soft and chaste on the lips, before heading up to speak with Saunders.
Saunders helped Langdon leave, he knows. Adelle knows too. They haven’t addressed the matter yet. There’s no need too.
The secrets of his house have long been exposed. There’s nothing but air and regrets between them.
-
Saunders never raises her voice either. It is almost like she can’t, and Laurence pauses, because that just might actually be true. Not for the first time he wonders what keeps her from going back to who she used to be. To who she really is, but he never asks.
It’s not his place.
Anyway, he hates to admit it, but he’s grown fond of her. It makes him uneasy due to the fact that Claire Saunders isn’t real, but besides Adelle (because he can’t even understand Topher anymore and it hurts more than he cares to admit), she’s the only other person he can stand being around for more than two minutes.
Her awareness of her situation is almost respectable, if only he understood why she chooses to keep it. Still, it’s her business and that conversation lands too closely to small talk and camaraderie than he’s comfortable with.
Still, he has to admit it’s commendable that when he finally goes to her about Langdon and Caroline, she doesn’t even pretend to lie.
“I was wondering when you’d finally ask.” She moves around her examination room, checking supplies, a quirk of her lips thrown over her shoulders at him. “But I didn’t think it would take you this long, to tell you the truth.”
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, Claire, but why if you knew something, didn’t you come forward straight away?” He growls, calling her by her first name for the first time he can remember. (Possibly it’s happened before, but his memories are of the days prior to the Attic are still fuzzy some days.)
Yet, for this first step into what he can describe as progress in their unplanned, almost-friendship, he’s pretty fucking annoyed with her right now.
Claire smiles, something most considered a mere muscle twitching, if they didn’t know her. “You didn’t ask,” she answers with such certainty, this look he can’t read in her eyes, but he thinks he understands anyway.
“I’m asking now,” he says.
“Yes, you are,” she replies, ready. “So ask me.”
Laurence does.
-
Her answers are not the ones he wants, but the ones he needs.
Laurence is more than aware of the irony.
-
(It’s more than giving people what they want. They give people what they need. That’s what Adelle used to say to their clients.)
Want, need, want, need, wantneedwantneed. Who cares anymore, Laurence thinks, as he presses Adelle against the glass partition by one of the walls near the back of the house. The same one Langdon discovered that opens and slides, he recalls.
He slides his hands under the light yoga pants she’s wearing. She doesn’t need to wear her thin, tight, pencil skirts anymore, and the minute the image flashes through his head, he grips her tighter and pulls her close. “I miss the skirts, Adelle.”
“I miss the suits,” she grins against his lips and then bites down. Suddenly like that, Laurence is suddenly aware of just how much she wants this. That in this moment, Adelle DeWitt, the calm, cool, and unflappable woman he’s come to admire over the past three years (or is it more now?), will let him fuck her up against a wall of her broken house.
It stills him. This utter change in what their lives are, and he pulls back, searching her eyes.
“Are you backing down, Mr. Dominic?” she taunts, tilting her hips toward his, and that should not be so fucking hot. Her crotch brushes against his, and the gleam in her eyes signals that she’s only too aware of his arousal.
He wants to say yes, I’m backing the fuck down; he should say yes and back away just to spite her, but he can’t. As much as he wants his distance from anything to do with the House, he wants her more, and so he moves one of his hands from her ass to cup her. Sliding a finger past her underwear into her warm flesh, rubbing not so gently. At her choppy exhalation, he adds a second finger, pumping quickly, all too aware of where they are.
Want and need are no longer two distinct motivations. They’re intertwined with desperation and hope.
She gasps, gripping his neck, his head tilting towards her. The kiss is meant to quiet the sounds she’s making, but he can feel them against his lips, pumping his fingers faster. When he presses the heel of his hand to her clit, she groans and her tongue creeps into his mouth. The kiss turning violent and messy; all tongues, teeth and lips.
It’s not enough. And he pushes her up further against the wall, grinding into her thigh, desperate for the friction. It’s feels…fuck, it feels like something beside his own hand touching him, which, if he’s honest, is more than enough after all these months. More than that, it’s Adelle. Laurence presses himself tighter against her, keeping to the steady and quick rhythm of his fingers, knowing that he needs to finish them both off soon. They’ve been lucky that no one comes around here; even the back parts of House are all but unused now. Almost everyone sticks to the centre lounge.
Then Adelle is grinding against him and he stops caring about getting caught. Her hips snapping up faster and faster against his, and Laurence knows, somehow, she’s close. He inserts a third finger, crooking all three inside her, twisting, and strokes her clit faster with his thumb.
The reaction is almost immediate.
Adelle’s hands, which until now had been curled tightly in his hair, drift down and grip his hips much harder than he would have suspected she could. It pulls him forward, her nails dig in where her fingers slid under his shirt. He curses. She groans, her head falling back, detaching from his mouth.
“Again,” she orders him, breathless.
Laurence smirks, repeating the action.
For all her previous noises, she comes apart quietly, between him and the glass wall, him following the line of her neck with his lips. These kisses are softer than he should be allowing himself, but she’s warm and soft against him and he can’t stop himself. Doesn’t want too, really.
Still hard against her thigh, he pushes into her, trying to get the edge off when a small hand grasps him. Laurence blinks, lifting his head from where he was probably leaving an impressive mark on Adelle’s neck, he looks to find her gaze on him, wondering when the hell she undid his pants.
“Adelle,” he starts.
She only lifts one leg to rest on his hip-leverage, he reasons, noting it pulls her closer to him-and begins pumping him, slowly.
“In the spirit of reciprocating.”
It’s all she says, as she starts to pump faster, matching the earlier pace he set. It’s enough, for had she ventured to say anything else Laurence is pretty sure he would have missed it lost in the feel of her hands wrapped around him. Her hands are so much smaller than his, smoother too, not having been subjected to years of training or gun-handling. His hands curl around her neck again, but now he knows exactly what he wants and angles her jaw to kiss her.
The kiss slow, and he buries his fingers in her hair, holding himself as close to her as humanly possible. She then squeezes him, her grip tight, tugging lightly, and that’s all he needs. His entire body tensing and then folding into himself as he comes against her hand.
If a minute or two ago she went limp in his arms, then he goes rigged in hers. Pressed up against a glass wall, they stay like that for several seconds until Laurence comes back to himself. His forehead resting against her shoulder, one hand against the wall, the other tangled in her hair.
She’s pliant under him, her breath brushing past his ear in short bursts.
They’re a fucking mess, he thinks, as he steps away, tucking himself back into the military pants. Across from him, Adelle is doing the same, tugging her yoga pants back in place, smoothing her hair back into a loose bun. Her face is flushed and her lips look raw and red. She looks well fucked, and it takes even more self control than usual for Laurence not to push her back against the wall, tug those flimsy excuses for pants down and lick her, because now he knows she’d probably let him.
She smiles, licking her lips, “I believe, Laurence, that next time we should choose a better a better venue. This was most unprofessional of us.”
Laurence already has a few places in mind. “I think we past unprofessional a few gunshot wounds ago.”
Adelle laughs, “In point of fact. Dinner then? I’m rather famished all of a sudden.”
He’s not surprised at her cool handling of the situation; it was one they both saw coming weeks ago, but Laurence has to admit he’s pleasantly surprised at her drollness.
“Sure, I’ll buy.” He doesn’t offer his arm but as they walk back to the lounge area, the space between has disappeared completely.
-
Topher’s nightmares never stop. They only grow darker each day. The man spends his days surrounded by his books, his games, his notes, always trying to find a way to stop the tech.
Laurence knows it’s useless. You can’t stop the tech. None of them can. All they can do is hope to outlast it.
The world ended wirelessly with no bodies and no bombs. No dead bodies, just dead souls. Dominic laughs at himself, wondering when the hell he became a fucking poet.
Leaning against the door to the chair room, he watches as Topher sits on the floor muttering to himself, “All they needed was one phone call…one call…the pulse they sent was perfect, jumping, jumping, jumping from wire to wire, computer to computer, and the brain. Electrical impulses in the neural network becoming just another extension of the tech. Where’s the block, where’s the block?”
Laurence can’t help but feel bad for the poor bastard. Topher may have been an immoral geek, but this, what the tech and Rossum has done to him is just pathetic. For the first time in a long time Laurence Dominic feels pity.
He hears Adelle come up behind him, her hand brushing against his elbow as she steps into the room, and makes a beeline for Topher. “Topher, love, have you eaten today?”
Her eyes slide over to the pile of sandwiches that lay forgotten in the corner of the room. She knows just as well as Laurence that Topher hasn’t eaten today. Probably longer, but Laurence spent the day sparring with Victor- fuck, Marcus, yesterday, and Topher barely left his pod.
Topher mutters something about ultra infrasonic emitters and Laurence catches the wet sheen in Adelle’s eyes. She runs a hand through the wild mop of Topher’s hair and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Please, do try to eat.” She reaches across and picks up one of the sandwiches, taking Topher’s hand and curling it around the bread. Topher looks down at the food like it’s something he’s never seen before and keeps on talking, talking, talking, but now he’s taking bites as he does so.
Laurence watches as the tension loosens in Adelle’s shoulder as she watches Topher eat the whole sandwich. When he’s done with that one, she pushes the plate in front of him and without prompting he picks up another, still rambling nonsensically, but eating. When she stands she look Laurence in the eyes.
“Have you been able to get anything useful out of Dr. Saunders?”
He smiles, just a little, “Don’t you think you should be calling her Claire by now?”
“Laurence.”
“Langdon said he’d come back for her.” He crosses his arms across his chest, “The man was many things, but most of all he was a man of his word. He’s coming back for her if he’s still alive and if anyone knows anything about Echo-I mean, Caroline, it will be him.”
Adelle walks over to him, glancing over her shoulder to where Topher is sitting, frowning. “Very well, let’s see if we cannot expedite his return.”
Laurence nods. They turn towards the door at the same time and leave the room walking side by side, an echo of days long past.
-
“Believe it or not, Marcus and Charlie gave me an interesting idea,” he mentions, running a hand over her naked back.
She lifts her head from it’s resting on his chest. “Can we do it?”
He shrugs as best his can from his position, against the elevator’s wall. “Give me a day.”
“Very well.” Adelle closes her eyes, tucking her head under his chin.
-
Setting up the wireless is a risky plan, but one that he’s sure will work. Or kill them. The equivalent of that today, at any rate.
Either way it’s an end to this waiting. An end to this purgatory.
Laurence walks the house at night, sleepless, and finds Adelle sitting by Topher’s pod, reading to him. He can tell that Topher has long been asleep, but Adelle keeps reading, her accent wrapping around the words gently. He walks up to her and settles a hand on her shoulder.
She startles, but only for a split second.
“Laurence.”
He shakes his head, “Come on, he’s asleep. Sugar plums and circuit boards are probably dancing in his head.”
“I hope so.” She looks over at Topher, her eyes heavy, and nods, taking Laurence’s hand.
He helps her stand and together they look over the house.
-
The wireless is the only source of communication with the outside, and they keep it far from the internal structure of the house, for safety.
Everyday someone sits by it and waits for news about anything.
One day they hear Morse code come through it. Juliet, who had been on watch didn’t even know it was a code; she just picked up on the pattern after listening for about an hour.
She rushes down to Laurence and takes him to listen.
Part of him can’t believe it, but it’s there. One word, repeating over and over again.
Echo.
-
He takes Marcus as close to the surface as his instincts will allow him to. They’re communicating with who they believe is Ech-Caroline through old wakies. Marcus taps out the code, while Laurence covers his flank.
Laurence has never asked or understood why a man clearly trained in the army chose to become a living doll, but for the moment he’s grateful. Not many of the others in the house have training, at least not in their natural states. They’ve all been trained to use guns thanks to himself and Marcus, but when the chips are down he’s only willing to trust someone who he knows won’t fall apart.
In some fucking twist of fate, it happens to be someone whose body he once inhabited. God, sometimes he realizes just how fucked up his life is.
As they reach the edge of the safe zone they have around the house, Laurence holds up his hand, signaling Marcus to wait.
He hears footsteps up ahead. Three sets, if his senses aren’t lying to him.
Carefully, he thumbs the safety of his gun and nods back to Marcus to do the same. Laurence goes up ahead, settling in a dark corner, Marcus across from him about five feet back.
In the dark silence they wait, counting the steps as they approach.
When they are close enough, Laurence steps out of the shadows, gun aimed for a head shot.
“Whoa, there! We come in peace!” A male voice shouts out.
Laurence is now face to face with Caroline, Ballard, and to Laurence’s surprise, November.
Marcus comes up from behind him, staring at the new arrivals. “We didn’t think you’d ever come back.”
“Langdon found us. Seems like you needed our help.” Caroline offers as way of explanation, tucking her gun into the waistband of her dirty jeans.
Laurence does not miss the fact that Langdon in not with them. Marcus goes to say something else, but Laurence cuts him off.
“Look, as great as all this chit-chat is, we need to get back to the house.” He checks the exits around them, making sure they weren’t followed, “We’re too exposed for my liking.”
Ballard nods, “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”
-
Adelle is not happy with Caroline’s return like he thought she would be. Still, he can see the flash of relief in her eyes is powered by that insufficient word: hope.
The others feel it too.
Adelle hopes for Caroline’s answer, but still guards herself strongly at Caroline’s words of safety. Laurence steps to her side as they listen, and finding himself hoping right along with her.
Afterwards, Adelle nods once, “Let me think on it.”
“We don’t have time for this, DeWitt!” Caroline argues, all nobility and ire. He would think it’s charming if it wasn’t so annoying.
“I believe, Caroline, that given our current circumstances, you would be the last person to argue when trying to find a way to free your friends from this house.”
“It’s different now, you know it.”
“That is quite possibly true, but this is still the safest location for all of us, and I will not allow any one of them to leave without a guarantee that they’ll have a safe haven to call home. I promised you all you’d be safe here, after all.” She crosses her arms, “I will think on this plan of yours and let you know my decision as soon as I make it. Now, I’m sure you, Mr Ballard and Madeline require some rest.”
Caroline purses her lips, but stands down and the others leave Topher’s office where they had been meeting. Laurence eyes them as they go, watching as the others welcome their little self-appointed messiah. He rolls his eyes.
“I did mention in my security report when you first took her in that she would be trouble, right?”
Adelle chuckles, “Yes, and rather vehemently. I remember that well.”
“Now would be an inappropriate time to say ‘I told you so’, wouldn’t it?” He leans against Topher’s old desk.
“You’re a few years too late at any rate. I realized just how much trouble Caroline would be a long time ago.” She uncrosses her arms and leans on the desk next to him, her hand brushing his arm as she does so.
“As long as you know,” he mutters, frowning.
She leans against him and he lets her.
-
Caroline keeps going on and on and on about this is being exactly what she warned them about. About how they needed to start letting her go on her little mission. If it wasn’t for the fact that they needed her, Laurence would be seriously considering putting a gun to her head.
Nobility can be an exhausting trait.
It’s not that he can’t admit that it’s a good little speech she has. Hope, a cure, a place where they don’t have to hide. A part of him wants to believe her, but then he looks at Caroline, slight of build and hanging onto her convictions by her fingernails.
As much as she thinks she’s ready, Laurence knows better.
-
He doesn’t realize how alone and separate from the others he and Adelle always are until she’s stepping out of the showers and he’s stepping in.
He always seems to shower alone, even in a house full of refugees, he’s positive it’s the same for her as well, unless he joins her.
As they pass each other she stops. She passes a thumb over the smudge on his cheek, eye brow raised.
“Reinforcing the outside perimeter,” he mutters, catching her hand in his.
She hums in acknowledgement and he ventures forward to kiss her. She tastes clean, like the soap they use, and a little metallic-he reminds himself to have Charlie check the pipes- but the skin under his hand is soft. “It’s a shame you already showered.”
With a curl of her lips, she pushes him away. “A rain check, I promise.”
He shrugs.
“Oh, and Laurence, after your shower, can you call Caroline up?” she half-asks, half-orders and he’s too used to following her orders to say no. (Plus, under the right circumstances lately, they’ve been enjoying a different side to her ingrained habit of ordering him around. Laurence is man enough to admit it; it doesn’t hurt it’s a fucking turn on.)
This request isn’t like that.
“Of course.” He pauses for a beat, reading her, positive he knows the answer to his unasked question.
She passes him, glancing over her shoulder, her voice carefully thin. “I believe it’s time for us to enact her little plan.”
He keeps moving forward, the shower wiping away the sweat of the say, but all he can think about is Adelle’s words and what they’ll mean for them.
-
Caroline’s little compound is far away, and with the way things are up on the surface, it’s practically a suicide mission.
Ballard volunteers almost immediately, like the good little puppy he is, always nipping at Caroline’s heels. So do Marcus and Priya, standing together, Marcus’ arm wrapped around her waist, holding her to him. These two have practically become inseparable as of late.
Dominic shoots their idea down. “I don’t think so. The less people on this little mission, the better. Besides myself and Ballard, you’re the only one with military experience. You’re staying put.”
Marcus begins to protest, but one look from Adelle he stands down, rolling his eyes as he agrees. “Sure, if you say so.”
“I do.” Dominic crosses his arms over his chest. He needs someone to stay behind and take care of the house, take care of Adelle and Topher.
“Now that’s all settled, we have other matters to discuss.” Adelle stands in front of them, hands resting on her waist and nods. “The house for example. When you leave, you’ll open us up to attack and infiltration. We’ll need to start considering how to seal up all possible entry points.”
Dominic agrees, “We’ll need to cut the hard lines and everything that connects to the outside.”
Caroline nods, “Fine then, let’s start getting moving on this.” She turns to Paul, pulling her hair up, “We’ll leave at the end of the week.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
They all amble off into after that except Laurence and Adelle. Narrowing his eyes at the shadows the low lights of the house cast on her cheekbones, he lays a hand over her shoulders.
“I need to talk to you. In private.”
Adelle looks at him curiously and nods, leading him towards the elevator. It doesn’t go up to her office anymore, they made sure of that, forever stuck on Subterranean Level 5, but it’s only place in the house with some degree of privacy. As she presses the button and the doors open, Laurence wonders if she knows what he is about to tell her.
-
“I’m going to go with them.”
Adelle frowns, “I would be lying if I said I didn’t expect as much, but I cannot tell you I’m pleased about it.”
Laurence crosses his arms, leaning against the wall of the elevator. “Ballard used to be an agent, maybe not a good one, but he’s got training behind him. Caroline thinks she’s the little solider that could, and sure, that’s all great, but out there, how far she’s planning to travel, I don’t care who she thinks she is, they’re going to need help.” “And you’re volunteering because you want her to be safe?” She raises an eyebrow at him, “I’m sorry, Laurence, if I call you a liar. You’re running.” She’s opposite him in the small space, hands on her hips, and he has to admit, it’s a little hot. Thankfully, he’s smart enough not to say anything now, probably because she’s also right.
There’s no use in denying it. He hates this place, he’s only stayed because it’s the safest place in the city, and yes, for Adelle too, but that took longer to admit to himself. Now he has a chance to find somewhere where they don’t have to live like prisoners anymore. He’s going to take it. For himself, for Adelle, for Topher and Claire and all the others in this house.
“Hell, yes, I’m running. If there really is a place shielded from the signal, then I want to be the first one to find it and make sure it’s safe for you and for the idiots downstairs,” he shoots back, slightly annoyed at her stubbornness. “You can call me a liar all you want, but this is not the place I want spend the rest of my life, how ever long that might be.”
“They could be fine without you,” she points out, cleverly.
She wants him to say, she’s not hiding it very well.
He smiles, “They could, but they will be safer with me. They’ll have a better chance of making it to wherever Caroline plans to go.”
“I do hate it when you make a point.” Adelle narrows her eyes, lips pursed. “All right then, Laurence, go find us a new home.”
He pulls her in for a deep kiss, arms tight against her back, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Mr Dominic.” She laughs against his mouth, arms wrapping around his neck.
-
“You’re doing that wrong,” he grunts, watching as Caroline tries to clean one of the guns they’ve stocked up.
She glares at him, “This is how Paul taught me.”
Laurence almost laughs out loud, but checks himself, and just leans against the wall. “Well, Paul, is a moron.” He sticks out his hand, making an impatient gesture with his fingers, “Hand it over.”
Caroline gives him a questioning look, but does as he asks. Laurence proceeds to show her the proper way of cleaning a Winchester 1887. Nice weapon for defending yourself, if you knew how to use it.
“Why are you helping me?” she asks him, her eyes trained on the movement of his hands.
“If we’re going out there, to try to find whatever the hell you’re looking for, I want to make sure that you know what the hell it is you’re doing.”
“Are you serious?” She looks at him like he’s grown a second head or gone insane. Laurence is sure he was already halfway to insane the second they let him out of the Attic. Might as well go the whole nine yards.
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
Caroline chuckles, “No, that’s definitely not a look I think you’re even capable of.”
He only stares her down in reply. He finishes with the Winchester, handing it back to her, moving on to the Sig Sauer P220. She keeps watching him.
He’s cleaning the barrel when she breaks the silence. “I think under different circumstances we could have made good allies, you know?”
Laurence barely even glances at her. “I’m sure you’re wrong.”
She rolls her eyes in response.
-
He says his goodbyes to Adelle privately.
Thankfully, she understands why he can’t stay. It’s not just about their survival, even though it is; it’s not about wanting to make sure Caroline’s words aren’t just a pipe dream, even thought it is about that too. He meant it when he said he needed Adelle to be safe, but he can’t stay despite that. He needs freedom from this place, and Adelle understand this. She knows better than to ask him to stay, because if she did ask he would, for her, but their survival takes precedence over their emotions.
Laurence needs to be free of this house more than he wants to be with her. It’s a harsh truth, but these are harsh times.
Tough choices are always made in war.
Alone and separate from everyone, she wraps her arms around him and tells him to find them a safe place to live. He kisses her cheek, her jaw, her lips and doesn’t answer. He hopes he can, but he won’t offer empty words.
“Did you ever think we’d be here all those years ago when we first started to work together?” she asks against his neck.
Laurence flashes his teeth, “Yeah, actually, I thought about getting you in an empty room a lot.”
He can feel her smile as it stretches over his skin, “Your sense of humor has improved over the years, Laurence. Topher would hardly recognize you.”
He grips her tighter at Topher’s name. “I’m one funny guy.”
“No, you really aren’t,” she leans away from him, “but you’ve kept us alive.”
-
When he leaves with Ballard and Caroline, he knows he’s not coming back.
He’ll find Adelle her safe haven, but he won’t come back to this hell. He can’t, it’s selfish, but he can’t. Finally free of the Dollhouse, he takes the lead as they run through the alleyways of Los Angeles. City of Angels, his ass. Caroline promises that her mountains will be safe, that they’ll be protected from the signal.
She’s giving them hope.
He thinks he feels it. It's a shaky, fluttering in his chest that he’s not used to.
-
Like he predicted he doesn’t return to the house.
Epilogue
Caroline and Ballard come back. Laurence is not with them.
Adelle feels an ache in her chest, but is not surprised. She had known he wouldn’t return, but Caroline hasn’t even mentioned if he survived the journey.
It’s an unpleasant feeling, Adelle is not fond of.
-
Tightening the strap of the rifle against her chest, Adelle turns to Caroline, asking her the one question she’s feared asking ever since she and Ballard broke through the wall.
“How’s Dominic? He didn’t…” She can’t finish the sentence because she can’t fathom the thought. If he didn’t make it, if he turned into… God, that would be his worst nightmare, worse than the attic. Losing himself to the tech. Adelle can’t even finish the thought.
Caroline looks at her, defiant as usual. Adelle doesn’t think Caroline will even answer her when, “He’s waiting for us. He couldn’t come back, not after,” Caroline pauses, “he decided to wait, make it all homey for us.”
“Yes, well, I can’t necessarily blame him, can I?” Adelle nods. She knew he wouldn’t return, but still, these long months without his presence at her side has reminded her just why she cares for him as deeply as she does.
“No, you can’t. You’re lucky, because he loves you, and he’s making sure that you have safe ground to fall down on. It’s all any one of us has left: someplace to fall.” The word love stands out as Caroline speaks but Adelle doesn’t acknowledge it. If Caroline has guessed as to the particulars of her and Laurence’s relationship, it’s just that, a guess. Adelle is rather positive in her assessment that no matter what they’ve gone through on the surface Laurence and Caroline did not have late night chats about their feelings.
Adelle smiles as best she can. “It does seem that way, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, it sure as hell does.” Caroline tugs her jacket tighter around her and heads up the stairs.
Adelle stands on the now empty floor of the house she built and looks around. It’s all shadows and emptiness now. Her house has long been gone.
“You should go now, Adelle.” Claire walks up to her, a cool hand pressed against Adelle’s shoulder.
“Good luck, Claire.” She nods. “Be safe.”
“I’ll try,” she answers, sardonically. “Say hello to Laurence for me.”
“He’ll be angry that you stayed. I believe he became rather fond of you in the end.”
“He can get over it.” Claire smirks, and is subsequently startled when Adelle reaches over to hug her.
“Goodbye, Lucy Adams. You were always your best,” Adelle whispers, and turns to make her way up the stairs. At the top she looks back down to the floor to where Claire stands on the empty floor below her.
There’s a sad smile on her face. “Thank you,” she whispers back, the words filling them deserted halls of the house.
It’s the first and last time an Active has ever said that to Adelle. And meant it.
-
The trek is long and they lose more than a few but they make it.
Laurence waits for them with rifle in hand, a few new scars on his face. It might be the best thing Adelle has ever seen in her life.
-
Their new home is far as you can get from Los Angeles. Its cold and high and empty in a beautiful way. The air is crisp and smells green-natural and untainted. Adelle presses her against Laurence’s back. He stays up late, only sleeping a few hours a night, always on the look out. Always prepared in case.
She can hear the movements of the many refugees on the floor below. She and the others have built a new house. A better house, a real home.
In the middle of it all Adelle thinks of her first day at Rossum. How she thought they were going to change the world.
They did.
And then they couldn’t live in it.
She thinks of the mistake she’s made over the years, of Topher, of Lucy. She presses herself tighter against Laurence’s warm back.
“Adelle,” she hears Laurence’s voice, husky and brittle, barely awake.
“I’m sorry if I woke you,” she loosens her grip on him, watching him turn to face her. “I was just thinking.”
He nods, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. She briefly wonders when the grey set. “Anything in particular?”
Adelle shakes her head, and kisses him. She shifts on the bed and goes to stand. The floor is cold under her feet and she reaches over to wrap her heavy coat around her body. “I should head downstairs. I’m helping Priya watch the kids today and spending the afternoon with Topher.”
Laurence looks at her from the bed, dropping back down on her pillow. “He barely remembers you on the good days, Adelle.”
“But he remembers, and today, that’s enough.”
-
Hope is enough.
Fandom: Dollhouse
Rating: hard R
Pairings: Dewitt/Dominic. Slight Victor/Sierra.
Spoilers: “Epitaph One” like woah.
Beta: major thanks to irony_rocks for looking it over so quickly, if anything is left over that’s all me.
Disclaimer: not mine
Summary: It’s a whole new world. The problem is having to live in it. (AU for “Epitaph One”, understandably.)
What Was Left In The Box
He comes back to the House after trying to outrun the tech. He comes back because Laurence Dominic is a quick study and learned this after just a week: you can’t outrun the tech. He doesn’t crawl back to the Dollhouse, pleading for sanctuary. He breaks in and sits in DeWitt’s office, finishing her precious vodka, and waits for her.
When she sees him, half way to falling-down-drunk in her chair, she raises an eyebrow, but her mouth curls in sympathy. It makes Dominic feel fucking pathetic so he just takes another swig of vodka.
She doesn’t question him or coddle him, she just walks straight up to him and plucks the glass decanter from his hand. He watches as she tilts her head back for a drink, how her muscles slide under her skin, and imagines how the alcohol burns down her throat. She doesn’t give him the bottle back and makes her way to her couch holding the decanter’s long neck loosely between her fingers.
“How far?” she asks.
Laurence doesn’t even have to wonder what she means. “San Francisco.”
“I see.” She pauses, “I’ve never managed to visit in all my travels.”
Dominic drops his head back, eyes closing. “I always liked Fisherman’s Wharf and Alcatraz, good security system.”
Adelle laughs. It is a dry and brittle sound.
-
She finds him in the remnants of the Attic not soon after his return.
Topher used to call it The Fridge or the Box Room depending on what sci-fi show he had been watching that week. Adelle always called it the Attic, just a place to send problematic Actives (and others, he remembers that well). Langdon used to call the Attic inhuman, but never where anyone could hear him.
Laurence, he will always call it Hell.
She finds him crouched down, his gun, which never leaves his side, hanging by his left hand between his knees. All around him the Attic is shot to high heaven.
“Laurence,” she starts, standing above him and he vaguely wonders when she stopped wearing her heels all the time.
He doesn’t look up at her, doesn’t answer.
She just sighs, “Dinner is ready. Won’t you come down?”
He chuckles, shaking his head, and then just can’t seem to stop. Dinner. He begins laughing, probably maniacally, and when he lifts his head to meet her gaze he can see the fear and worry. He just keeps laughing. Dinner. The world is going ass up by something they helped perfect, and they’re living as if they’re all the fucking Brady Bunch from hell. He wants to shoot something but remembers the chamber of his gun is now empty. Standing, he sobers, tucking his gun into the back of his pants.
“Sure, dinner. Can’t wait.”
Adelle frowns at him. She does that a lot lately. “Must you be so snide?”
“It’s either snide or pissed, take your pick. And let me just remind you pissed is a lot more dangerous.” He twists his lips, walking past her.
She doesn’t let him get far, pulling him back to face her. His NSA reflexes itch for the punch, but Laurence pushes them down.
“Do you honestly think this is only happening to you, Laurence?” She glowers at him. Her voice is quiet rage and firm resolve. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard her yell, even when he shot her, and he briefly wonders what it would take to make her scream.
“Of course I don’t!” He does yell, stepping into her personal space.
She doesn’t even flinch. “Then stop bloody well acting like it! We are all down here, we’ve all been affected by what’s occurred, but we can’t very well start acting like spoiled children or angry soldiers itching for a war. We won’t survive that way.”
He snorts in disbelief, “You really think we’ll survive this, Adelle?”
He almost calls her ma’am. An old habit. One he’s desperately trying to break.
She levels her gaze at him, “What other option do we have?”
Laurence doesn’t say what the cynic in him thinks: death or becoming one of them, because he knows Adelle DeWitt and he knows that both answers would sound like they’re giving up. Like surrender.
Adelle DeWitt does neither.
-
Saunders comes up to him one day or night, he doesn’t even know anymore, and sits by his side on Topher’s couch. He’s taken to spending his time in Topher’s old work area. It’s the only place in the house that people don’t venture to anymore.
“In the beginning, when I first came here, you were my handler, weren’t you? Before they promoted you?”
Laurence sighs, “Did you read your file?”
She shakes her head, “Just a feeling.”
He smirks, “Good feeling.”
Laurence is reminded why the clients all liked her; Whiskey always had good instincts, no matter her imprint. Not in the creepy way that Alpha or Echo had, but there had just been something about her. Like she knew, understood, and accepted anything they offered up to her. He looks over to her. It appears she still has them.
She smiles, but as always it’s laced with sadness and he thinks, fucking Topher, who programmed her to only feel the most minimal amount of happiness at any given time so she wouldn’t run away. It kept her loyalty to the house. It still pisses Dominic off.
“Did you hate me, like you hated them?” she asks, nodding her head to the floor below him. He doesn’t like to spend too much time downstair on the floor. All the Actives might have their personalities back but that doesn’t mean he has to like them. Actually, he’s certain he doesn’t.
Realizing that she is waiting for his answer, he spares her a look, half smiling. “No, I didn’t hate you. It was after that I hated them. Before, it was indifference.”
“After?”
“After Alpha,” he says.
He feels Saunders nod, understanding. “Well, I’m glad you weren’t plotting my demise during every assignment.”
Laurence laughs, surprised at himself as the sound escapes him. “Wouldn’t have made me a very good handler.”
“No, probably not.” Saunders stands and smiles down at him pleasantly, heading back downstairs. He’s suddenly reminded of how Clifford, the original Saunders, used to smile. Frowning, he’s now acutely aware of a new issue.
“Hey, Doc! Why didn’t you have Topher put your original personality back?” He stands, calling her back, searching the floor for Topher, irrationally angry with the man.
She looks over her shoulder, shrugging, “The house still needed a doctor.”
“There is no more House,” he states.
“Maybe not in that sense, Mr. Dominic, but people still live here, still depend on each other. I think it’s more of a house now than it ever was before.”
He doesn’t react to her words and she leaves, leaving in him alone in Topher’s quirky old work space. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he walks towards the window where he watches as She makes her way to her office. Langdon is passing by with some tea. They smile at each other and he follows her in. Laurence rolls his eyes.
-
When Langdon disappears in a flurry of questions, Laurence knows it has to do with Echo-Caroline. The little bitch was always more trouble than she was worth.
She’s gone, disappeared and it’s too dangerous to follow her now.
Fucking hell, maybe he should have paid a little more attention to her little glitches when she was around. He’s certain they held answers. Answers they now need.
-
The tech has driven them underground, even further than before. The elevator is shut down and Adelle can no longer call her lofty office sanctuary anymore.
Not shockingly, everyone is on edge.
He thinks of San Francisco; of his mother and the bullet he put in his brother’s head. It is hell on the surface and none of them are ready.
Doesn’t help that they’re all fucking scared.
So they try to survive as best they can.
They all take their comforts where they can.
One afternoon he catches Victor and Sierra-fuck, he means Marcus and Priya clutching at each other in the old sauna when he goes down for a shower. They don’t notice him, too busy trying to get lost in the other’s body, and Laurence leaves them to it, saving his shower for later. There’s too little privacy in their little underground lair, they take what they can get.
-
Three days later he and Adelle are arguing in Topher’s old work space about Caroline, Boyd, and Topher, when Laurence realizes, the second that she calls him a “bloody prig” that he wants to kiss her. He wants to turn and push her against the desk, dragging his teeth down the back of her neck.
The image is overwhelming, and god, it’s been so fucking long since he’s even contemplated sex, what with the world ending and everything, that he starts to walk away in the middle of her sentence. He needs a cold shower, now, because kissing Adelle doesn’t seem like a bad idea all of a sudden.
And that’s exactly why he needs to go.
Adelle’s never liked it when people walk away from her, and pulls him back to her like that day in the Attic.
Laurence warns her off, eyes blazing, “Adelle, trust me, you want to let me walk away.”
She levels him with a look, her eyes searching his and he knows the exact moment she understands just why she should let him go. She doesn’t.
She steps closer to him and quirks her lips, smug. “I rather think I don’t, Laurence.”
He turns back to face her, to warn her off again, and it’s a mistake when he does. She’s looking at him with the same heat he’s trying to push down.
“Laurence,” she repeats, her accent a soft lilt that rushes down his spine and he feels the fine control he has over himself snap.
He holds her neck like he doesn’t know whether to choke her or kiss her. An old, angry side of him wants to hurt her, but a stronger and more current instinct takes over and he tilts her back, capturing her bottom lip between his.
She kisses him back.
Slow and deep, fingers curling against his jaw. She holds him to her mouth, sucking and breathing, as she steps into the kiss.
His hands relax against her neck and her fingers slide down to catch in his collar. Titling her head back, he wants to deepen the kiss and probably fuck-no, he definitely wants to fuck her against Topher’s desk. They take a step towards the couch, and he stops. Part of him thinks it’s the stupidest move he’s made yet, but he still stops.
He takes a deep breath instead, taking a step back. “Adelle, I’m-I don’t…”
She gives him an appraising look, “Are you honestly planning to apologize for that, Laurence?”
“That shouldn’t have happened, Adelle.”
She crosses her arms, “Well, I can’t very well argue that, but it did happen.” Tucking a stray hair behind her ear, she pauses, licking her lips lightly, “And I’ll even venture to say that it was a long time in the making, don’t you agree?”
He rolls his eyes, scoffing, “It’s not a question of whether I agree or not, Adelle. The point of the matter is that…look at us! Look at how we’re living. We’re hiding out in the same fucking place that ended the world and us fucking each other is not going to change that.”
Her eyes flash in anger and he knows that what’s coming next is equally as inevitable as what just happened. “I was not aware your opinion of me was so low, Laurence.” Her voice is ice cold and he suppresses a wince. He knows just what she’s capable of when crossed. “I am very well aware of our situation. How can I not be? I am no foolish teenager, thinking that what just happened between us is a cure for our current predicament. If anything it was two old friends, if we’re even that, trying to find solace in one another.”
She presses on, the line of her shoulders straight like a razor’s edge, a familiar stance, which means she’s studiously trying to keep her voice even. “This is a mad, new world we live in, and I will not apologize for taking what small comforts come to me, selfish as it maybe. You are a friend, Laurence, as much as you think the contrary.” She steps forward, passing him on his right side, her right hand trailing his shoulder. “You are not alone in this place.”
She leaves him without another word and Laurence stares at the wall, unblinking. He stares at it, trying to get his breathing under control, but doesn’t get far. He watches, detached, as his fist strikes out and makes contact. The wall dents a little under the force behind his punch and he stares at the cracked pieces as they litter the ground.
He feels the pain shoot up his arm, but he can’t associate himself with it.
Finally, something in the house looks like the world outside. Jagged, broken, sharp. He finally feels part of the pressure in his chest lessen and turns on his heels to see Saunders.
She’ll clean his hand and wrap it with the care she’s always given everyone, but for the first time, he’s willing to accept it.
-
The first night Topher wakes up with nightmares, Laurence frowns and turns over in his makeshift bed-like hell he’ll ever sleep in one of those pods-and rather cruelly, thinks the mousy man deserves it. Nobody got out of this unscathed, and he supposes that very few people in the world can actually say they helped end it. Dropping his forearm over his eyes, he doesn’t go back to sleep. Instead, he listens. He listens as Adelle’s soft footsteps make their way across the room and move towards Topher.
He can’t hear her words, but the tone in her voice is low and soothing. He counts the minutes. Topher’s babbling and low whimpers finally die down ten minutes later but he can still hear Adelle’s voice whispering to him. When she must feel it’s okay to leave the younger man alone, Dominic listens as she makes her way back to her own sleeping area. She doesn’t sleep in the pods either, but on a cot they found, situated as far from the door as possible at his insistence.
He doesn’t even attempt to sleep until her breathing evens out again.
Never does the thought occur that he is consciously waiting up for her.
-
He finds her under the stairs one day, her eyes rimmed in red. He doesn’t say anything and settles his arm around her waist. She doesn’t speak to him, but after a few minutes, she kisses him, soft and chaste on the lips, before heading up to speak with Saunders.
Saunders helped Langdon leave, he knows. Adelle knows too. They haven’t addressed the matter yet. There’s no need too.
The secrets of his house have long been exposed. There’s nothing but air and regrets between them.
-
Saunders never raises her voice either. It is almost like she can’t, and Laurence pauses, because that just might actually be true. Not for the first time he wonders what keeps her from going back to who she used to be. To who she really is, but he never asks.
It’s not his place.
Anyway, he hates to admit it, but he’s grown fond of her. It makes him uneasy due to the fact that Claire Saunders isn’t real, but besides Adelle (because he can’t even understand Topher anymore and it hurts more than he cares to admit), she’s the only other person he can stand being around for more than two minutes.
Her awareness of her situation is almost respectable, if only he understood why she chooses to keep it. Still, it’s her business and that conversation lands too closely to small talk and camaraderie than he’s comfortable with.
Still, he has to admit it’s commendable that when he finally goes to her about Langdon and Caroline, she doesn’t even pretend to lie.
“I was wondering when you’d finally ask.” She moves around her examination room, checking supplies, a quirk of her lips thrown over her shoulders at him. “But I didn’t think it would take you this long, to tell you the truth.”
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, Claire, but why if you knew something, didn’t you come forward straight away?” He growls, calling her by her first name for the first time he can remember. (Possibly it’s happened before, but his memories are of the days prior to the Attic are still fuzzy some days.)
Yet, for this first step into what he can describe as progress in their unplanned, almost-friendship, he’s pretty fucking annoyed with her right now.
Claire smiles, something most considered a mere muscle twitching, if they didn’t know her. “You didn’t ask,” she answers with such certainty, this look he can’t read in her eyes, but he thinks he understands anyway.
“I’m asking now,” he says.
“Yes, you are,” she replies, ready. “So ask me.”
Laurence does.
-
Her answers are not the ones he wants, but the ones he needs.
Laurence is more than aware of the irony.
-
(It’s more than giving people what they want. They give people what they need. That’s what Adelle used to say to their clients.)
Want, need, want, need, wantneedwantneed. Who cares anymore, Laurence thinks, as he presses Adelle against the glass partition by one of the walls near the back of the house. The same one Langdon discovered that opens and slides, he recalls.
He slides his hands under the light yoga pants she’s wearing. She doesn’t need to wear her thin, tight, pencil skirts anymore, and the minute the image flashes through his head, he grips her tighter and pulls her close. “I miss the skirts, Adelle.”
“I miss the suits,” she grins against his lips and then bites down. Suddenly like that, Laurence is suddenly aware of just how much she wants this. That in this moment, Adelle DeWitt, the calm, cool, and unflappable woman he’s come to admire over the past three years (or is it more now?), will let him fuck her up against a wall of her broken house.
It stills him. This utter change in what their lives are, and he pulls back, searching her eyes.
“Are you backing down, Mr. Dominic?” she taunts, tilting her hips toward his, and that should not be so fucking hot. Her crotch brushes against his, and the gleam in her eyes signals that she’s only too aware of his arousal.
He wants to say yes, I’m backing the fuck down; he should say yes and back away just to spite her, but he can’t. As much as he wants his distance from anything to do with the House, he wants her more, and so he moves one of his hands from her ass to cup her. Sliding a finger past her underwear into her warm flesh, rubbing not so gently. At her choppy exhalation, he adds a second finger, pumping quickly, all too aware of where they are.
Want and need are no longer two distinct motivations. They’re intertwined with desperation and hope.
She gasps, gripping his neck, his head tilting towards her. The kiss is meant to quiet the sounds she’s making, but he can feel them against his lips, pumping his fingers faster. When he presses the heel of his hand to her clit, she groans and her tongue creeps into his mouth. The kiss turning violent and messy; all tongues, teeth and lips.
It’s not enough. And he pushes her up further against the wall, grinding into her thigh, desperate for the friction. It’s feels…fuck, it feels like something beside his own hand touching him, which, if he’s honest, is more than enough after all these months. More than that, it’s Adelle. Laurence presses himself tighter against her, keeping to the steady and quick rhythm of his fingers, knowing that he needs to finish them both off soon. They’ve been lucky that no one comes around here; even the back parts of House are all but unused now. Almost everyone sticks to the centre lounge.
Then Adelle is grinding against him and he stops caring about getting caught. Her hips snapping up faster and faster against his, and Laurence knows, somehow, she’s close. He inserts a third finger, crooking all three inside her, twisting, and strokes her clit faster with his thumb.
The reaction is almost immediate.
Adelle’s hands, which until now had been curled tightly in his hair, drift down and grip his hips much harder than he would have suspected she could. It pulls him forward, her nails dig in where her fingers slid under his shirt. He curses. She groans, her head falling back, detaching from his mouth.
“Again,” she orders him, breathless.
Laurence smirks, repeating the action.
For all her previous noises, she comes apart quietly, between him and the glass wall, him following the line of her neck with his lips. These kisses are softer than he should be allowing himself, but she’s warm and soft against him and he can’t stop himself. Doesn’t want too, really.
Still hard against her thigh, he pushes into her, trying to get the edge off when a small hand grasps him. Laurence blinks, lifting his head from where he was probably leaving an impressive mark on Adelle’s neck, he looks to find her gaze on him, wondering when the hell she undid his pants.
“Adelle,” he starts.
She only lifts one leg to rest on his hip-leverage, he reasons, noting it pulls her closer to him-and begins pumping him, slowly.
“In the spirit of reciprocating.”
It’s all she says, as she starts to pump faster, matching the earlier pace he set. It’s enough, for had she ventured to say anything else Laurence is pretty sure he would have missed it lost in the feel of her hands wrapped around him. Her hands are so much smaller than his, smoother too, not having been subjected to years of training or gun-handling. His hands curl around her neck again, but now he knows exactly what he wants and angles her jaw to kiss her.
The kiss slow, and he buries his fingers in her hair, holding himself as close to her as humanly possible. She then squeezes him, her grip tight, tugging lightly, and that’s all he needs. His entire body tensing and then folding into himself as he comes against her hand.
If a minute or two ago she went limp in his arms, then he goes rigged in hers. Pressed up against a glass wall, they stay like that for several seconds until Laurence comes back to himself. His forehead resting against her shoulder, one hand against the wall, the other tangled in her hair.
She’s pliant under him, her breath brushing past his ear in short bursts.
They’re a fucking mess, he thinks, as he steps away, tucking himself back into the military pants. Across from him, Adelle is doing the same, tugging her yoga pants back in place, smoothing her hair back into a loose bun. Her face is flushed and her lips look raw and red. She looks well fucked, and it takes even more self control than usual for Laurence not to push her back against the wall, tug those flimsy excuses for pants down and lick her, because now he knows she’d probably let him.
She smiles, licking her lips, “I believe, Laurence, that next time we should choose a better a better venue. This was most unprofessional of us.”
Laurence already has a few places in mind. “I think we past unprofessional a few gunshot wounds ago.”
Adelle laughs, “In point of fact. Dinner then? I’m rather famished all of a sudden.”
He’s not surprised at her cool handling of the situation; it was one they both saw coming weeks ago, but Laurence has to admit he’s pleasantly surprised at her drollness.
“Sure, I’ll buy.” He doesn’t offer his arm but as they walk back to the lounge area, the space between has disappeared completely.
-
Topher’s nightmares never stop. They only grow darker each day. The man spends his days surrounded by his books, his games, his notes, always trying to find a way to stop the tech.
Laurence knows it’s useless. You can’t stop the tech. None of them can. All they can do is hope to outlast it.
The world ended wirelessly with no bodies and no bombs. No dead bodies, just dead souls. Dominic laughs at himself, wondering when the hell he became a fucking poet.
Leaning against the door to the chair room, he watches as Topher sits on the floor muttering to himself, “All they needed was one phone call…one call…the pulse they sent was perfect, jumping, jumping, jumping from wire to wire, computer to computer, and the brain. Electrical impulses in the neural network becoming just another extension of the tech. Where’s the block, where’s the block?”
Laurence can’t help but feel bad for the poor bastard. Topher may have been an immoral geek, but this, what the tech and Rossum has done to him is just pathetic. For the first time in a long time Laurence Dominic feels pity.
He hears Adelle come up behind him, her hand brushing against his elbow as she steps into the room, and makes a beeline for Topher. “Topher, love, have you eaten today?”
Her eyes slide over to the pile of sandwiches that lay forgotten in the corner of the room. She knows just as well as Laurence that Topher hasn’t eaten today. Probably longer, but Laurence spent the day sparring with Victor- fuck, Marcus, yesterday, and Topher barely left his pod.
Topher mutters something about ultra infrasonic emitters and Laurence catches the wet sheen in Adelle’s eyes. She runs a hand through the wild mop of Topher’s hair and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Please, do try to eat.” She reaches across and picks up one of the sandwiches, taking Topher’s hand and curling it around the bread. Topher looks down at the food like it’s something he’s never seen before and keeps on talking, talking, talking, but now he’s taking bites as he does so.
Laurence watches as the tension loosens in Adelle’s shoulder as she watches Topher eat the whole sandwich. When he’s done with that one, she pushes the plate in front of him and without prompting he picks up another, still rambling nonsensically, but eating. When she stands she look Laurence in the eyes.
“Have you been able to get anything useful out of Dr. Saunders?”
He smiles, just a little, “Don’t you think you should be calling her Claire by now?”
“Laurence.”
“Langdon said he’d come back for her.” He crosses his arms across his chest, “The man was many things, but most of all he was a man of his word. He’s coming back for her if he’s still alive and if anyone knows anything about Echo-I mean, Caroline, it will be him.”
Adelle walks over to him, glancing over her shoulder to where Topher is sitting, frowning. “Very well, let’s see if we cannot expedite his return.”
Laurence nods. They turn towards the door at the same time and leave the room walking side by side, an echo of days long past.
-
“Believe it or not, Marcus and Charlie gave me an interesting idea,” he mentions, running a hand over her naked back.
She lifts her head from it’s resting on his chest. “Can we do it?”
He shrugs as best his can from his position, against the elevator’s wall. “Give me a day.”
“Very well.” Adelle closes her eyes, tucking her head under his chin.
-
Setting up the wireless is a risky plan, but one that he’s sure will work. Or kill them. The equivalent of that today, at any rate.
Either way it’s an end to this waiting. An end to this purgatory.
Laurence walks the house at night, sleepless, and finds Adelle sitting by Topher’s pod, reading to him. He can tell that Topher has long been asleep, but Adelle keeps reading, her accent wrapping around the words gently. He walks up to her and settles a hand on her shoulder.
She startles, but only for a split second.
“Laurence.”
He shakes his head, “Come on, he’s asleep. Sugar plums and circuit boards are probably dancing in his head.”
“I hope so.” She looks over at Topher, her eyes heavy, and nods, taking Laurence’s hand.
He helps her stand and together they look over the house.
-
The wireless is the only source of communication with the outside, and they keep it far from the internal structure of the house, for safety.
Everyday someone sits by it and waits for news about anything.
One day they hear Morse code come through it. Juliet, who had been on watch didn’t even know it was a code; she just picked up on the pattern after listening for about an hour.
She rushes down to Laurence and takes him to listen.
Part of him can’t believe it, but it’s there. One word, repeating over and over again.
Echo.
-
He takes Marcus as close to the surface as his instincts will allow him to. They’re communicating with who they believe is Ech-Caroline through old wakies. Marcus taps out the code, while Laurence covers his flank.
Laurence has never asked or understood why a man clearly trained in the army chose to become a living doll, but for the moment he’s grateful. Not many of the others in the house have training, at least not in their natural states. They’ve all been trained to use guns thanks to himself and Marcus, but when the chips are down he’s only willing to trust someone who he knows won’t fall apart.
In some fucking twist of fate, it happens to be someone whose body he once inhabited. God, sometimes he realizes just how fucked up his life is.
As they reach the edge of the safe zone they have around the house, Laurence holds up his hand, signaling Marcus to wait.
He hears footsteps up ahead. Three sets, if his senses aren’t lying to him.
Carefully, he thumbs the safety of his gun and nods back to Marcus to do the same. Laurence goes up ahead, settling in a dark corner, Marcus across from him about five feet back.
In the dark silence they wait, counting the steps as they approach.
When they are close enough, Laurence steps out of the shadows, gun aimed for a head shot.
“Whoa, there! We come in peace!” A male voice shouts out.
Laurence is now face to face with Caroline, Ballard, and to Laurence’s surprise, November.
Marcus comes up from behind him, staring at the new arrivals. “We didn’t think you’d ever come back.”
“Langdon found us. Seems like you needed our help.” Caroline offers as way of explanation, tucking her gun into the waistband of her dirty jeans.
Laurence does not miss the fact that Langdon in not with them. Marcus goes to say something else, but Laurence cuts him off.
“Look, as great as all this chit-chat is, we need to get back to the house.” He checks the exits around them, making sure they weren’t followed, “We’re too exposed for my liking.”
Ballard nods, “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”
-
Adelle is not happy with Caroline’s return like he thought she would be. Still, he can see the flash of relief in her eyes is powered by that insufficient word: hope.
The others feel it too.
Adelle hopes for Caroline’s answer, but still guards herself strongly at Caroline’s words of safety. Laurence steps to her side as they listen, and finding himself hoping right along with her.
Afterwards, Adelle nods once, “Let me think on it.”
“We don’t have time for this, DeWitt!” Caroline argues, all nobility and ire. He would think it’s charming if it wasn’t so annoying.
“I believe, Caroline, that given our current circumstances, you would be the last person to argue when trying to find a way to free your friends from this house.”
“It’s different now, you know it.”
“That is quite possibly true, but this is still the safest location for all of us, and I will not allow any one of them to leave without a guarantee that they’ll have a safe haven to call home. I promised you all you’d be safe here, after all.” She crosses her arms, “I will think on this plan of yours and let you know my decision as soon as I make it. Now, I’m sure you, Mr Ballard and Madeline require some rest.”
Caroline purses her lips, but stands down and the others leave Topher’s office where they had been meeting. Laurence eyes them as they go, watching as the others welcome their little self-appointed messiah. He rolls his eyes.
“I did mention in my security report when you first took her in that she would be trouble, right?”
Adelle chuckles, “Yes, and rather vehemently. I remember that well.”
“Now would be an inappropriate time to say ‘I told you so’, wouldn’t it?” He leans against Topher’s old desk.
“You’re a few years too late at any rate. I realized just how much trouble Caroline would be a long time ago.” She uncrosses her arms and leans on the desk next to him, her hand brushing his arm as she does so.
“As long as you know,” he mutters, frowning.
She leans against him and he lets her.
-
Caroline keeps going on and on and on about this is being exactly what she warned them about. About how they needed to start letting her go on her little mission. If it wasn’t for the fact that they needed her, Laurence would be seriously considering putting a gun to her head.
Nobility can be an exhausting trait.
It’s not that he can’t admit that it’s a good little speech she has. Hope, a cure, a place where they don’t have to hide. A part of him wants to believe her, but then he looks at Caroline, slight of build and hanging onto her convictions by her fingernails.
As much as she thinks she’s ready, Laurence knows better.
-
He doesn’t realize how alone and separate from the others he and Adelle always are until she’s stepping out of the showers and he’s stepping in.
He always seems to shower alone, even in a house full of refugees, he’s positive it’s the same for her as well, unless he joins her.
As they pass each other she stops. She passes a thumb over the smudge on his cheek, eye brow raised.
“Reinforcing the outside perimeter,” he mutters, catching her hand in his.
She hums in acknowledgement and he ventures forward to kiss her. She tastes clean, like the soap they use, and a little metallic-he reminds himself to have Charlie check the pipes- but the skin under his hand is soft. “It’s a shame you already showered.”
With a curl of her lips, she pushes him away. “A rain check, I promise.”
He shrugs.
“Oh, and Laurence, after your shower, can you call Caroline up?” she half-asks, half-orders and he’s too used to following her orders to say no. (Plus, under the right circumstances lately, they’ve been enjoying a different side to her ingrained habit of ordering him around. Laurence is man enough to admit it; it doesn’t hurt it’s a fucking turn on.)
This request isn’t like that.
“Of course.” He pauses for a beat, reading her, positive he knows the answer to his unasked question.
She passes him, glancing over her shoulder, her voice carefully thin. “I believe it’s time for us to enact her little plan.”
He keeps moving forward, the shower wiping away the sweat of the say, but all he can think about is Adelle’s words and what they’ll mean for them.
-
Caroline’s little compound is far away, and with the way things are up on the surface, it’s practically a suicide mission.
Ballard volunteers almost immediately, like the good little puppy he is, always nipping at Caroline’s heels. So do Marcus and Priya, standing together, Marcus’ arm wrapped around her waist, holding her to him. These two have practically become inseparable as of late.
Dominic shoots their idea down. “I don’t think so. The less people on this little mission, the better. Besides myself and Ballard, you’re the only one with military experience. You’re staying put.”
Marcus begins to protest, but one look from Adelle he stands down, rolling his eyes as he agrees. “Sure, if you say so.”
“I do.” Dominic crosses his arms over his chest. He needs someone to stay behind and take care of the house, take care of Adelle and Topher.
“Now that’s all settled, we have other matters to discuss.” Adelle stands in front of them, hands resting on her waist and nods. “The house for example. When you leave, you’ll open us up to attack and infiltration. We’ll need to start considering how to seal up all possible entry points.”
Dominic agrees, “We’ll need to cut the hard lines and everything that connects to the outside.”
Caroline nods, “Fine then, let’s start getting moving on this.” She turns to Paul, pulling her hair up, “We’ll leave at the end of the week.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
They all amble off into after that except Laurence and Adelle. Narrowing his eyes at the shadows the low lights of the house cast on her cheekbones, he lays a hand over her shoulders.
“I need to talk to you. In private.”
Adelle looks at him curiously and nods, leading him towards the elevator. It doesn’t go up to her office anymore, they made sure of that, forever stuck on Subterranean Level 5, but it’s only place in the house with some degree of privacy. As she presses the button and the doors open, Laurence wonders if she knows what he is about to tell her.
-
“I’m going to go with them.”
Adelle frowns, “I would be lying if I said I didn’t expect as much, but I cannot tell you I’m pleased about it.”
Laurence crosses his arms, leaning against the wall of the elevator. “Ballard used to be an agent, maybe not a good one, but he’s got training behind him. Caroline thinks she’s the little solider that could, and sure, that’s all great, but out there, how far she’s planning to travel, I don’t care who she thinks she is, they’re going to need help.” “And you’re volunteering because you want her to be safe?” She raises an eyebrow at him, “I’m sorry, Laurence, if I call you a liar. You’re running.” She’s opposite him in the small space, hands on her hips, and he has to admit, it’s a little hot. Thankfully, he’s smart enough not to say anything now, probably because she’s also right.
There’s no use in denying it. He hates this place, he’s only stayed because it’s the safest place in the city, and yes, for Adelle too, but that took longer to admit to himself. Now he has a chance to find somewhere where they don’t have to live like prisoners anymore. He’s going to take it. For himself, for Adelle, for Topher and Claire and all the others in this house.
“Hell, yes, I’m running. If there really is a place shielded from the signal, then I want to be the first one to find it and make sure it’s safe for you and for the idiots downstairs,” he shoots back, slightly annoyed at her stubbornness. “You can call me a liar all you want, but this is not the place I want spend the rest of my life, how ever long that might be.”
“They could be fine without you,” she points out, cleverly.
She wants him to say, she’s not hiding it very well.
He smiles, “They could, but they will be safer with me. They’ll have a better chance of making it to wherever Caroline plans to go.”
“I do hate it when you make a point.” Adelle narrows her eyes, lips pursed. “All right then, Laurence, go find us a new home.”
He pulls her in for a deep kiss, arms tight against her back, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Mr Dominic.” She laughs against his mouth, arms wrapping around his neck.
-
“You’re doing that wrong,” he grunts, watching as Caroline tries to clean one of the guns they’ve stocked up.
She glares at him, “This is how Paul taught me.”
Laurence almost laughs out loud, but checks himself, and just leans against the wall. “Well, Paul, is a moron.” He sticks out his hand, making an impatient gesture with his fingers, “Hand it over.”
Caroline gives him a questioning look, but does as he asks. Laurence proceeds to show her the proper way of cleaning a Winchester 1887. Nice weapon for defending yourself, if you knew how to use it.
“Why are you helping me?” she asks him, her eyes trained on the movement of his hands.
“If we’re going out there, to try to find whatever the hell you’re looking for, I want to make sure that you know what the hell it is you’re doing.”
“Are you serious?” She looks at him like he’s grown a second head or gone insane. Laurence is sure he was already halfway to insane the second they let him out of the Attic. Might as well go the whole nine yards.
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
Caroline chuckles, “No, that’s definitely not a look I think you’re even capable of.”
He only stares her down in reply. He finishes with the Winchester, handing it back to her, moving on to the Sig Sauer P220. She keeps watching him.
He’s cleaning the barrel when she breaks the silence. “I think under different circumstances we could have made good allies, you know?”
Laurence barely even glances at her. “I’m sure you’re wrong.”
She rolls her eyes in response.
-
He says his goodbyes to Adelle privately.
Thankfully, she understands why he can’t stay. It’s not just about their survival, even though it is; it’s not about wanting to make sure Caroline’s words aren’t just a pipe dream, even thought it is about that too. He meant it when he said he needed Adelle to be safe, but he can’t stay despite that. He needs freedom from this place, and Adelle understand this. She knows better than to ask him to stay, because if she did ask he would, for her, but their survival takes precedence over their emotions.
Laurence needs to be free of this house more than he wants to be with her. It’s a harsh truth, but these are harsh times.
Tough choices are always made in war.
Alone and separate from everyone, she wraps her arms around him and tells him to find them a safe place to live. He kisses her cheek, her jaw, her lips and doesn’t answer. He hopes he can, but he won’t offer empty words.
“Did you ever think we’d be here all those years ago when we first started to work together?” she asks against his neck.
Laurence flashes his teeth, “Yeah, actually, I thought about getting you in an empty room a lot.”
He can feel her smile as it stretches over his skin, “Your sense of humor has improved over the years, Laurence. Topher would hardly recognize you.”
He grips her tighter at Topher’s name. “I’m one funny guy.”
“No, you really aren’t,” she leans away from him, “but you’ve kept us alive.”
-
When he leaves with Ballard and Caroline, he knows he’s not coming back.
He’ll find Adelle her safe haven, but he won’t come back to this hell. He can’t, it’s selfish, but he can’t. Finally free of the Dollhouse, he takes the lead as they run through the alleyways of Los Angeles. City of Angels, his ass. Caroline promises that her mountains will be safe, that they’ll be protected from the signal.
She’s giving them hope.
He thinks he feels it. It's a shaky, fluttering in his chest that he’s not used to.
-
Like he predicted he doesn’t return to the house.
Epilogue
Caroline and Ballard come back. Laurence is not with them.
Adelle feels an ache in her chest, but is not surprised. She had known he wouldn’t return, but Caroline hasn’t even mentioned if he survived the journey.
It’s an unpleasant feeling, Adelle is not fond of.
-
Tightening the strap of the rifle against her chest, Adelle turns to Caroline, asking her the one question she’s feared asking ever since she and Ballard broke through the wall.
“How’s Dominic? He didn’t…” She can’t finish the sentence because she can’t fathom the thought. If he didn’t make it, if he turned into… God, that would be his worst nightmare, worse than the attic. Losing himself to the tech. Adelle can’t even finish the thought.
Caroline looks at her, defiant as usual. Adelle doesn’t think Caroline will even answer her when, “He’s waiting for us. He couldn’t come back, not after,” Caroline pauses, “he decided to wait, make it all homey for us.”
“Yes, well, I can’t necessarily blame him, can I?” Adelle nods. She knew he wouldn’t return, but still, these long months without his presence at her side has reminded her just why she cares for him as deeply as she does.
“No, you can’t. You’re lucky, because he loves you, and he’s making sure that you have safe ground to fall down on. It’s all any one of us has left: someplace to fall.” The word love stands out as Caroline speaks but Adelle doesn’t acknowledge it. If Caroline has guessed as to the particulars of her and Laurence’s relationship, it’s just that, a guess. Adelle is rather positive in her assessment that no matter what they’ve gone through on the surface Laurence and Caroline did not have late night chats about their feelings.
Adelle smiles as best she can. “It does seem that way, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, it sure as hell does.” Caroline tugs her jacket tighter around her and heads up the stairs.
Adelle stands on the now empty floor of the house she built and looks around. It’s all shadows and emptiness now. Her house has long been gone.
“You should go now, Adelle.” Claire walks up to her, a cool hand pressed against Adelle’s shoulder.
“Good luck, Claire.” She nods. “Be safe.”
“I’ll try,” she answers, sardonically. “Say hello to Laurence for me.”
“He’ll be angry that you stayed. I believe he became rather fond of you in the end.”
“He can get over it.” Claire smirks, and is subsequently startled when Adelle reaches over to hug her.
“Goodbye, Lucy Adams. You were always your best,” Adelle whispers, and turns to make her way up the stairs. At the top she looks back down to the floor to where Claire stands on the empty floor below her.
There’s a sad smile on her face. “Thank you,” she whispers back, the words filling them deserted halls of the house.
It’s the first and last time an Active has ever said that to Adelle. And meant it.
-
The trek is long and they lose more than a few but they make it.
Laurence waits for them with rifle in hand, a few new scars on his face. It might be the best thing Adelle has ever seen in her life.
-
Their new home is far as you can get from Los Angeles. Its cold and high and empty in a beautiful way. The air is crisp and smells green-natural and untainted. Adelle presses her against Laurence’s back. He stays up late, only sleeping a few hours a night, always on the look out. Always prepared in case.
She can hear the movements of the many refugees on the floor below. She and the others have built a new house. A better house, a real home.
In the middle of it all Adelle thinks of her first day at Rossum. How she thought they were going to change the world.
They did.
And then they couldn’t live in it.
She thinks of the mistake she’s made over the years, of Topher, of Lucy. She presses herself tighter against Laurence’s warm back.
“Adelle,” she hears Laurence’s voice, husky and brittle, barely awake.
“I’m sorry if I woke you,” she loosens her grip on him, watching him turn to face her. “I was just thinking.”
He nods, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. She briefly wonders when the grey set. “Anything in particular?”
Adelle shakes her head, and kisses him. She shifts on the bed and goes to stand. The floor is cold under her feet and she reaches over to wrap her heavy coat around her body. “I should head downstairs. I’m helping Priya watch the kids today and spending the afternoon with Topher.”
Laurence looks at her from the bed, dropping back down on her pillow. “He barely remembers you on the good days, Adelle.”
“But he remembers, and today, that’s enough.”
-
Hope is enough.