Dollhouse Fic: Everything You Made Me
I'm still not sure how I feel about the Dollhouse finale. Joss took my favorite character and revealed him to be something . . . very different. And, while part of me is outraged, another part is . . . strangely fascinated. Those who've followed my fic (involving Jarod and Sydney, Adama and Gaeta, Wallace and Bodie, the list goes on) might have noticed that I have an odd fascination with characters who betray and/or kill each other. In that spirit, my first (and possibly only) Dollhouse fic is dedicated to Boyd Langton.
Title: Everything You Made Me
Rating: mild T for mention of death, disturbing themes
Word Count: 500
Characters/Pairings: Echo, Paul, mention of Boyd. Gen unless you squint.
Summary: Set just after the events of "The Hollow Men." Echo can't sleep.
She wakes up with a scream on her lips. Again.
There’s a large hand on her shoulder, and for one crazy second she thinks it’s him. Then a familiar voice reaches her ear. “Hey. Hey, it’s alright. You were dreaming.”
The old Paul would have pulled her to him and held her as if she was made of glass. This new Paul presses a cup of tea into her hands and brushes her wrist tentatively. The brief touch could almost have been accidental.
“It was him again, wasn’t it?”
She nods, not trusting her voice.
He swallows. Clearly Quantico didn’t train him for this kind of crisis. “He’s dead, Echo. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
She shakes her head and puts the tea aside, making a mental note to thank Adelle in the morning. Lying down, she closes her eyes and wishes for sleep, but the hotel bed is too big, too high, too cold, and she doesn’t really want to dream.
////////////////////////////////////////
The next time it happens, he’s not there. He comes back to the room to find her curled in a ball with the duvet wrapped around her shoulders.
“You were gone.”
He forces a smile. She glances at his haggard face and reminds herself that she shouldn’t worry him so. It’s not as if she’s the only one who’s suffered.
“Had to grab some coffee.” He tries to give the steaming mug to her, but she won’t take it. “I’m not going anywhere. Trust me.”
She draws her knees up to her chest. “Ask me anything,” she tells him, “But never ask me that.”
////////////////////////////////////
They’re not sure what to do about her-the others in her head. Jenny reminds her that she had no choice. Elanor tells her that it’s natural to feel the way she feels; it’s part of the process. Margaret strokes her hair and tells her to trust herself. Terry finds the whole situation oddly poetic, but has nothing more to add.
Caroline tells them all to be quiet. They don’t understand.
///////////////////////////////
By the tenth time, Paul’s gotten better about reacting. He doesn’t tell her everything will be alright. He doesn’t tell her she’s safe. He just sits and holds her hand until she speaks.
“I killed him.”
While it’s not strictly true, he knows better than to say so.
“Yes.”
“He would have killed me.”
“Yes.” A pause stretches between them. “Do you think you can sleep?”
“No.”
//////////////////////////////
By the twentieth time it happens, she won’t let him hold her hand. He watches her as she stares blindly out the window. He tries one last time.
“He was never who you thought he was.”
She closes her eyes and longs for the vacuum-the dizzying blur of images vanishing. The world becoming simple again.
“No one ever is.”
Fin
Title: Everything You Made Me
Rating: mild T for mention of death, disturbing themes
Word Count: 500
Characters/Pairings: Echo, Paul, mention of Boyd. Gen unless you squint.
Summary: Set just after the events of "The Hollow Men." Echo can't sleep.
She wakes up with a scream on her lips. Again.
There’s a large hand on her shoulder, and for one crazy second she thinks it’s him. Then a familiar voice reaches her ear. “Hey. Hey, it’s alright. You were dreaming.”
The old Paul would have pulled her to him and held her as if she was made of glass. This new Paul presses a cup of tea into her hands and brushes her wrist tentatively. The brief touch could almost have been accidental.
“It was him again, wasn’t it?”
She nods, not trusting her voice.
He swallows. Clearly Quantico didn’t train him for this kind of crisis. “He’s dead, Echo. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
She shakes her head and puts the tea aside, making a mental note to thank Adelle in the morning. Lying down, she closes her eyes and wishes for sleep, but the hotel bed is too big, too high, too cold, and she doesn’t really want to dream.
////////////////////////////////////////
The next time it happens, he’s not there. He comes back to the room to find her curled in a ball with the duvet wrapped around her shoulders.
“You were gone.”
He forces a smile. She glances at his haggard face and reminds herself that she shouldn’t worry him so. It’s not as if she’s the only one who’s suffered.
“Had to grab some coffee.” He tries to give the steaming mug to her, but she won’t take it. “I’m not going anywhere. Trust me.”
She draws her knees up to her chest. “Ask me anything,” she tells him, “But never ask me that.”
////////////////////////////////////
They’re not sure what to do about her-the others in her head. Jenny reminds her that she had no choice. Elanor tells her that it’s natural to feel the way she feels; it’s part of the process. Margaret strokes her hair and tells her to trust herself. Terry finds the whole situation oddly poetic, but has nothing more to add.
Caroline tells them all to be quiet. They don’t understand.
///////////////////////////////
By the tenth time, Paul’s gotten better about reacting. He doesn’t tell her everything will be alright. He doesn’t tell her she’s safe. He just sits and holds her hand until she speaks.
“I killed him.”
While it’s not strictly true, he knows better than to say so.
“Yes.”
“He would have killed me.”
“Yes.” A pause stretches between them. “Do you think you can sleep?”
“No.”
//////////////////////////////
By the twentieth time it happens, she won’t let him hold her hand. He watches her as she stares blindly out the window. He tries one last time.
“He was never who you thought he was.”
She closes her eyes and longs for the vacuum-the dizzying blur of images vanishing. The world becoming simple again.
“No one ever is.”
Fin