Dollhouse fic: It's Not Easy Being Green (or being Judith); PG-13
Title: It’s Not Easy Being Green (or being Judith)
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Judith, Adelle DeWitt, Laurence Dominic, Topher Brink
Pairings: DeWitt/Dominic
Words: 3,746
Summary: She’s the Queen of Gossip, no doubt about it. That little frame of hers is jam-packed with all sorts of gossip in the Dollhouse. But if you’re looking for gossip about Adelle DeWitt, you’re looking at the wrong person.
Notes: I’ve been waiting for someone to make a Judith fic. But no one was writing one so I wrote one. This was supposed to be for the dewitt_dominic Celebration Week. From shi_naynay’s prompt, “Judith knows”. Also, HIMYM reference!
Thank you to sevendayloan for beta-ing. All mistakes are mine. I hope you enjoy.
The trick to being an excellent assistant, aside from having a magical filing system and the knack for anticipating the boss’ needs, is having limitless amount of patience and discretion.
She’s the Queen of Gossip, no doubt about it. That little frame of hers is jam-packed with all sorts of gossip in the Dollhouse. But if you’re looking for gossip about Adelle DeWitt, you’re looking at the wrong person. Judith might know everything about everyone, but she doesn’t talk about her boss (and to some extent, her boss’ right-hand man).
So if you’re extremely curious about that thing you keep on hearing about DeWitt and that, “jerk head of security”, do not go to Judith. Because even if Judith knows, she won’t tell.
~*~
“Your educational background and previous work experiences are quite… impressive. Why are you applying for the position of executive assistant when you’re obviously overqualified?”
She keeps her hands folded in front of her as she looks at the man interviewing her. He was introduced to her as Mr. Dominic, Head of Security. He’s blond, with bright blue eyes and a permanent scowl on his face. He’s kind of cute, though.
“It’s mostly because I need a change in environment.”
He gives her a skeptical look, “Really.” He says, “You’ve been informed of… the nature of this division?”
“Yes.”
“Then you know that this position, though mostly clerical, isn’t much of a change in environment.” He tells her. Aside from cute, Mr. Dominic is also a smartass.
“Well, I like the monotony of clerical work. It suits my personality and I feel that when a certain work suits my personality, I tend to do my job better.”
He stares at her, as if trying to read her soul (or something). He doesn’t say anything, only quirking a brow before writing something on her file.
He proceeds to ask her some questions- the routine job interview types, and no trick questions like, why are manholes round or can a blind person see pink. The man is no-nonsense and straightforward. A little blunt, but hey, what do you expect from man with that kind of scowl?
Then, he starts fixing the papers, splitting up the documents in two sets and putting them in identical folders.
Mr. Dominic then abruptly pauses before looking at her, “Before I bring you up to see Ms. DeWitt, do you have any concerns or… questions about the scope of your work?” he asks, the line of inquiry seemingly like an afterthought.
She blinks, “Well, yes.” She replies, “Just one. Why are you looking for someone who has weapons proficiency?”
~*~
Before she worked in the Rossum Corporation, the name DeWitt evoked a mental image of an old, stern-looking woman with a conservative bob and graying hair, who likes wearing cream pantsuits and hates everybody.
Before she worked in the Rossum Corporation, the name Dominic reminded her of that little boy in that Arnold Schwarzenegger movie where Ah-nuld was an undercover cop pretending to be a kindergarten teacher (it’s one of her guilty pleasure movies, okay?). Dominic also reminds her of a saint.
Then she meets Adelle DeWitt and Laurence Dominic and both mental images get thrown out of the window quickly. Adelle DeWitt is neither old nor stern-looking and nor does she wear cream pantsuits (or any pantsuits, for that matter). She doesn’t have a conservative bob (far from it) and her hair isn’t graying. She also doesn’t hate everybody.
Laurence Dominic is not a saint (far from it) nor does he look like that little boy in the movie. He also probably doesn’t like everybody who isn’t Adelle DeWitt.
Both are exquisitely dressed all the time and sometimes, when she looks at them, she can’t believe they work so well together; it’s like watching a perfectly oiled, flawless magic act that never fails to impress its audience.
And then sometimes, she thinks they’re really mechanical droids (the kind that likes chicken salad and steals mints from her candy bowl) that are only capable of feeling anger and glee.
~*~
“Judith, may I see you in my office?”
She saves the file she’s been working on and turns off her monitor before leaving her desk to go towards the double doors at the end of the hallway. It’s her fourth month on the job and there’s yet to be an incident which Mr. Dominic had said would warrant her other skills.
She knocks on the door first before turning the handle.
“Ms. DeWitt?” she says, when she sees that her boss has her back towards her. Her eyes dart to Ms. DeWitt’s shoes which she admires for a few seconds. She then lifts her head up quickly before her boss notices what she’s doing.
Ms. DeWitt turns her head. She sees a quick smile form on her face before it disappears.
“Judith.” She greets, seemingly pleased with her appearance.
She walks towards the older woman, “Yes, ma’am?”
“Could you call Franklin - from downstairs - and ask him or any of his assistants to get Mr. Dominic’s-”
“-Ma’am it isn’t necessary.”
Mr. Dominic’s voice startles her slightly and she looks towards the direction of his voice.
Her eyes widen at the sight of him.
Green, wet goo covers the right side of Mr. Dominic’s body and there are spatters of it on his cheek and his hair. The goo is dripping on the carpet. And he’s fuming. And green.
Right now, Laurence Dominic is a large, green, angry man.
She presses her lips together and looks away.
“Don’t start, Judith.” Mr. Dominic says to her in a threatening tone. She closes her eyes and shakes her head. He’s the Incredible Hulk, without the bulk (and the purple pants)
“There’s no need, ma’am. I can rush back home and change-”
“Nonsense, Mr. Dominic. You don’t know what Mr. Brink mixed in that… green liquid of his. Franklin and his staff can take care of your coat and trousers.” Ms. DeWitt chides, “And I doubt you’d want to be seen green.” She adds in a light tone.
She looks at her boss and finds her trying to hold back a laugh.
“Ma’am, if I may, Topher Brink is a security risk and a childish ass!”
Ms. DeWitt shakes her head, as if she’s heard this complaint before. She then turns her attention back to her, “Call Franklin and tell him to bring a change of clothes for Mr. Dominic. And a washcloth.”
~*~
If she had any talent in writing at all, she would have already made a romance novel about them and be swimming in piles of money because it will be such a hit.
~*~
“Judith.”
She looks up from her table and sees Mr. Dominic looking at her with a very serious look on his face.
“Mr. Dominic.” She greets. He’s here to see her; if he’s here to see Ms. DeWitt, he’ll go straight towards the doors without fanfare or even a hello. (He’s the serious business type of guy).
He leans on her desk, “Do you know the name of the security officer who was on duty last Friday evening?”
She frowns a little, trying to put a name to the face she’s seeing in her mind, “I think his name is Gabe. Stocky guy, looked like he played football in college?” she offers.
“Hmm.” He says, looking around the security cameras around the area, “I need you to do an inventory of DeWitt’s files.”
“Okay, I can do that.” She answers.
He looks at her, expecting her to ask a question. When she didn’t ask any, he gives her a half-smile (the only kind that he’s capable of, it seems), “Call me immediately if there’s anything missing.” He says, then leaves, but not before taking a handful of chocolate-flavored mints from her candy bowl.
“You’re welcome.” She calls out.
~*~
They’re not “just colleagues”; that kind of relationship does not involve scary sexual tension, numerous inside jokes that only the two of them can understand or the ability to communicate without saying words.
Best friends, maybe. But they’re too formal and stiff around each other, and even if that’s a joke between them, she doubts that best friends still address each other formally when they’re concerned about the other’s safety or act like it’s the most awkward thing to do.
Obviously, they do not see each other as brother and sister.
They’re probably not lovers. Although she doesn’t really mind being proven wrong because she likes to think that after staring at each other with burning intensity for a several hours at work, something gratifying must come out of it at the end of the day.
Thinking about it, there probably isn’t any word at all to describe the two of them together.
~*~
She locks them in the office and confiscates their IDs to prevent them from using the private elevator (and any elevator, for that matter) to escape her watch and go on to other floors to infect everybody with that happy drug they’re currently “contaminated” with (thanks a lot, Topher).
Right now, she’s trying to finish the end-of-the-month budget report for tomorrow, but Ms. DeWitt and Mr. Dominic’s constant use of the speaker phone just to bug her is driving her up the wall.
She tries ignoring them the first few times, but they are relentless. And the fact that they’re still holding a conversation even when they’re convincing her to let them out is just… unbelievable.
“Judith. You have seven seccccconds.”
“My shoes are lovely, Judith. And I believe they were made so that I can walk around the House as I please.
“Your shoes are lovely, Ma’am. Judith likes them.”
“Thank you, Mr. Dominic. You can have my shoes if you want, Judith. Just unbolt the damn doors.”
Then, “We’re not high anymore, Judith. You can let us out.”
Which is followed by:
“Juuuuuuudiiiiiiiiith.”
“Dith-dith-ju-ju-dith-dith.”
“Judith. Judith. Judith. Let us out, Judith. Judith. Judith. Judith. We don’t eat people, Judith.”
Ms. DeWitt giggles in the background, “Mr. Dominic, I think we’re annoying the poor girl.” Her boss says.
“Okay.”
The speaker phone goes silent. She then hears a small click and she heaves a sigh in relief. Finally.
She turns her attention back to the computer monitor and begins typing away.
And then the speaker switches on again.
“Na-na-na-na-na! Yo-yo-yo! J to the Dith, who’s currently acting like a Sith-”
“-what’s a Sith?”
“The bad guys from Star Wars, Ma’am.”
“Oh.”
“Come on, Judith. I have Head of Security matters to attend to. Ms. DeWitt has Very Important Stuff to do. Don’t pretend to-wait,” Mr. Dominic shuts up for a few seconds, “you haven’t seen Star Wars?” he asks, but she’s quite sure the question is not directed to her.
“No.”
“You should watch it. I could watch it with you if you’d like. Maaaan, those movies are so awesome. Except for the recent ones. But, yeah. Genius.”
She buries her face in her hands. It’s amusing to listen to them, frankly speaking, but they’re not the ones with a deadline tomorrow.
“Is that the movie with a Darth Vader and his white robots?”
“They’re not robots, Ma’am.”
“They aren’t?”
“Nope. They’re clones.”
She sighs and looks at her watch. She has two more hours of this.
~*~
Sometimes, when the rumour mill ran rampant, she’d wonder if they knew that people were gossiping about them; that people were seeing something between the two of them and was probably being blown up to extreme proportions.
They probably didn’t care.
~*~
And just like that, he was gone.
She doesn’t know the whole story, and she doesn’t ask (doesn’t dare to ask). What she knows is that Mr. Dominic is a spy and that he didn’t go down easily, judging from the mess in Ms. DeWitt’s office.
She had housekeeping clear the shattered glass on the floor immediately, and had the broken windows replaced. There were several bullet holes on the wooden panels of the wall and she had to pressure Carpentry to finish fixing them before Monday morning.
When Ms. DeWitt comes back to work, she was all business as usual and acting like nothing remotely devastating happened. She receives clients, meets with Mr. Langton (who, more or less, acted bemused and out of place during the first few months).
And she never mentions Mr. Dominic by his name again.
She was as polished and exquisite as she was before. It was mighty impressive, actually. She had actually believed Adelle DeWitt wasn’t affected by the betrayal all.
~*~
She doesn’t know if the Head of Security’s duplicity directly led to the Head of the House’s downward spiral, or if it was just one of the many threads that had contributed to it.
But one thing’s for certain: the tea is now just an act and she’s starting to replenish the liquor cabinet more often than usual.
~*~
Ms. DeWitt cut her hair because that’s her way of mourning her loss of Mr. Dominic.
Or at least, that’s what she thinks.
~*~
Matthew Harding is a skeevy, chauvinistic bastard. Clive Ambrose is an overcompensating, chauvinistic bastard. Actually, almost all the men who passes by her desk are chauvinistic bastards (except for Mr. Langton).
It’s more than enough for her to just take the shotgun from under her table and start shooting.
But of course she can’t do that. She’s at the fiftieth floor with no means of escape. She’ll be caught in no time.
Ms. DeWitt doesn’t talk to her and she refuses to meet her gaze. Mr. Langton isn’t of much help either; he looks preoccupied most of the time and he’s not really the talkative type. He’s also still a bit confused with what his job entails. The only person who was somewhat fun was Mr. Ballard, and he’s nowhere to be seen.
She hates the new management.
~*~
“I know what you’re thinking.”
She glances at the woman lounged on the leather couch, with dark circles under her eyes. She’s holding an empty glass in her hand and she’s watching her clean up the other empty glasses on top of her desk.
Mr. Langton might be the only person other than her who knows that Adelle DeWitt has turned into a drunken mess, but she’s the only one who knows how much (and how often) she actually drinks. At this state, Adelle DeWitt is more irritable, more prone to shouting. Sometimes, she gets so unbearable, but…
She can’t continue her line of thought so she just mentally calculates the amount of alcohol she needs to replace. Maybe she should lay off ordering the scotch.
“I’m a pathetic, miserable, drunken hag.” Ms. DeWitt states.
She doesn’t say anything. But she doesn’t continue with what she’s doing either.
“Say something, Judith.”
She shakes her head, “I’m in no position to say anything, Ms. DeWitt.”
The older woman scoffs and rolls her eyes, “Of all the people in this damn corporation, you’re the only one who’s in the position to tell me what you really think of me.” Suddenly, the hard gaze she didn’t realize she’s giving her boss softens which then makes Ms. DeWitt look away.
“Well,” she starts. Her heart thumps a little harder against her chest. She hasn’t been asked this before, “You're not a hag.” She offers, rather weakly.
She hears a derisive snort. Ms. DeWitt puts the glass on top of the coffee table and touches her forehead, “How kind of you.”
She takes a deep breath. She’s asking for a wake-up call. She can give her one, “You're losing grip. You're trying to keep everything-and I mean everything-inside and it’s getting unbearable. And you're coping with alcohol which I don’t understand at all because you want to be in control and alcohol just makes everything complicated and uncontrollable.”
Ms. DeWitt closes her eyes and lets her head fall back on the couch, “Thank you, Judith.”
She wasn’t finished yet, but she accepts the dismissal and takes all the empty bottles and empty glasses - including the one on top of the coffee table - and leaves the room.
~*~
She was told to leave and go as far away as possible, never to come back. She wasn’t given any reasons, only that it’s the apocalypse and that its for her own safety.
But when the proverbial shit hits the fan, she went to the only place that she thought would be able to protect her.
She went back.
~*~
Ms. DeWitt was genuinely shocked when she discovered that she knows how to use a big damn gun.
She had used an M161 to blast a mindless butcher to kingdom come and saved several former Actives along the way.
Her (former) boss approached her when she was in the armory. They’ve been holed up in the Dollhouse facility for more than a few months and if they keep on getting uninvited mindless guests, they’ll run low on ammunition in a few weeks. Mr. Dominic’s gone, so are Echo and Paul.
“All this time, you know how to fire a weapon?” Ms. DeWitt asks, almost in wonder.
She can also ask her the same question, but the answer will probably be a predictable one like, ‘Mr. Dominic taught me’.
“Pretty much.” She says. Ms. DeWitt’s head cocks a little to the side, “It was part of the job description.” She clarifies, “Mr. Dominic said something about crazy clients.”
Ms. DeWitt gives her a look. It suddenly dawns on her that Mr. Dominic was probably looking for a bodyguard who can do executive assistant duties and not a dangerous executive assistant.
Ms. DeWitt pulls up, something she does when she’s slightly discomfited and nods her head, “I see.”
She hands Adelle DeWitt a rag, and together, cleaned their guns.
~*~
Safe haven is neither safe nor a haven.
But it’ll do.
~*~
They’ve been avoiding each other like the plague.
When Dominic’s in the kitchen, Adelle will be in the back, overseeing the water collection. When Dominic’s outside, Adelle’s inside. When Dominic is in the first floor, Adelle will be in the second floor. If they find themselves in the same room, one of them leaves after a beat or two.
It was getting stupid. Especially since he doesn’t really stay long.
No one wants to intervene. They all believe it’s going to resolve itself.
The idiots.
~*~
“You're looking well, Judith.”
She looks up from the vegetable patch and sees Dominic standing a few feet away from her, his hands in his pants pocket. He’s scruffy and very dirty looking. The perfect suits he used to wear are now replaced by fatigues and torn jackets.
“I… really can’t say the same for you, Dominic.” She replies and flashes him a smile. There’s a fresh wound by his forehead and he looks so tired. She takes the cabbages she just collected and puts them in the basket before standing up. She brushes her hands on her jeans, “Are you outside because Adelle’s inside?” it took her long enough to get used calling Ms. DeWitt by her first name.
“No.” he says. She raises a brow, “Why is it relevant?”
“Because it’s stupid.” She replies, shrugging. She lifts the basket up and walks towards him, “Really stupid.”
“It’s complicated.”
She starts walking towards the house, “You know what. The world has ended. Both of you survived. How complicated can things between two people get after that?”
“You don’t know what happened.” He retorts, walking beside her.
“Oh, trust me, I do.” She says and glances at him, “Don’t you remember? Queen of Gossip, The Omniscient One, Oh All Knowing Seer?”
Dominic smirks, “I remember.”
“Stop making it complicated.”
~*~
“Consider two atoms. A distance R apart. Because they are electrically neutral, you might suppose there would be no force between them…”
Topher’s sitting on top of the steps, watching her check the laundry drying under the harsh glare of the sun.
“… but if they’re polarizable, there is, in fact, a weak interaction. They're not exactly opposite or different. It’s just that once they meet at a certain point, they could interact. And interact they did. Awesomely.”
She frowns slightly and she looks at her ward (for a few hours). She raises a brow, “What’s your story about, Topher?”
He makes a funny face. It’s one of his good days today. Being outside makes him a little calmer, “Van der Waals.” He replies.
“Hmm.” She says, nodding her head. She has no idea who Van der Waals is. Or what. Or what branch of science he/it belongs to.
“Describes Adelle and Dom perfectly.” He adds, his hands flailing a bit. “Physics.”
“Oh.” She goes towards him, “Wow. Physics.”
He wraps his arms around his knees, “They’ve always, always liked each other. Noticed it before, noticed it now. ‘cept now, she’s not his boss anymore. She’s still the boss here, though.” He says, with a grin.
She sits beside him and he looks at her, “I don’t want to bother them-but maybe later. Can I stay here with you ‘til dinner?”
She smiles at him, “Sure.”
~*~
After how many years, she finally had the chance to ask him the real reason why he wanted an executive assistant who’s proficient with weapons.
His answer was simple. It’s because he wouldn’t always be by her side.
~*~
“So, what’s the deal between the two of them?”
She looks to where Max, one of the new arrivals at their haven, is looking- Adelle and Dominic, who were in the kitchen washing the dishes and, well, cleaning the kitchen. She gives him a disapproving gaze. Fine, he’s a bit dense and can sometimes fail at social interaction. But if he really can’t see the obvious, there really is no helping him.
“I don’t know, Max. Why don’t you ask them yourself?” she replies.
Max looks at her, slightly confused, “But they told me if I have questions, I should ask you. She’s the boss, right?”
“Yep.”
“And that guy with her is the guy who goes out and gets supplies and takes the Actuals here. What are they together…?”
She turns towards the younger man and looks at him directly in the eye, “Max, you can ask me about anything. Anything except them. Am I making myself clear?”
Max nods his head.
Because even after all these years, she’s still the wrong person to ask about these things.
FIN
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Judith, Adelle DeWitt, Laurence Dominic, Topher Brink
Pairings: DeWitt/Dominic
Words: 3,746
Summary: She’s the Queen of Gossip, no doubt about it. That little frame of hers is jam-packed with all sorts of gossip in the Dollhouse. But if you’re looking for gossip about Adelle DeWitt, you’re looking at the wrong person.
Notes: I’ve been waiting for someone to make a Judith fic. But no one was writing one so I wrote one. This was supposed to be for the dewitt_dominic Celebration Week. From shi_naynay’s prompt, “Judith knows”. Also, HIMYM reference!
Thank you to sevendayloan for beta-ing. All mistakes are mine. I hope you enjoy.
The trick to being an excellent assistant, aside from having a magical filing system and the knack for anticipating the boss’ needs, is having limitless amount of patience and discretion.
She’s the Queen of Gossip, no doubt about it. That little frame of hers is jam-packed with all sorts of gossip in the Dollhouse. But if you’re looking for gossip about Adelle DeWitt, you’re looking at the wrong person. Judith might know everything about everyone, but she doesn’t talk about her boss (and to some extent, her boss’ right-hand man).
So if you’re extremely curious about that thing you keep on hearing about DeWitt and that, “jerk head of security”, do not go to Judith. Because even if Judith knows, she won’t tell.
~*~
“Your educational background and previous work experiences are quite… impressive. Why are you applying for the position of executive assistant when you’re obviously overqualified?”
She keeps her hands folded in front of her as she looks at the man interviewing her. He was introduced to her as Mr. Dominic, Head of Security. He’s blond, with bright blue eyes and a permanent scowl on his face. He’s kind of cute, though.
“It’s mostly because I need a change in environment.”
He gives her a skeptical look, “Really.” He says, “You’ve been informed of… the nature of this division?”
“Yes.”
“Then you know that this position, though mostly clerical, isn’t much of a change in environment.” He tells her. Aside from cute, Mr. Dominic is also a smartass.
“Well, I like the monotony of clerical work. It suits my personality and I feel that when a certain work suits my personality, I tend to do my job better.”
He stares at her, as if trying to read her soul (or something). He doesn’t say anything, only quirking a brow before writing something on her file.
He proceeds to ask her some questions- the routine job interview types, and no trick questions like, why are manholes round or can a blind person see pink. The man is no-nonsense and straightforward. A little blunt, but hey, what do you expect from man with that kind of scowl?
Then, he starts fixing the papers, splitting up the documents in two sets and putting them in identical folders.
Mr. Dominic then abruptly pauses before looking at her, “Before I bring you up to see Ms. DeWitt, do you have any concerns or… questions about the scope of your work?” he asks, the line of inquiry seemingly like an afterthought.
She blinks, “Well, yes.” She replies, “Just one. Why are you looking for someone who has weapons proficiency?”
~*~
Before she worked in the Rossum Corporation, the name DeWitt evoked a mental image of an old, stern-looking woman with a conservative bob and graying hair, who likes wearing cream pantsuits and hates everybody.
Before she worked in the Rossum Corporation, the name Dominic reminded her of that little boy in that Arnold Schwarzenegger movie where Ah-nuld was an undercover cop pretending to be a kindergarten teacher (it’s one of her guilty pleasure movies, okay?). Dominic also reminds her of a saint.
Then she meets Adelle DeWitt and Laurence Dominic and both mental images get thrown out of the window quickly. Adelle DeWitt is neither old nor stern-looking and nor does she wear cream pantsuits (or any pantsuits, for that matter). She doesn’t have a conservative bob (far from it) and her hair isn’t graying. She also doesn’t hate everybody.
Laurence Dominic is not a saint (far from it) nor does he look like that little boy in the movie. He also probably doesn’t like everybody who isn’t Adelle DeWitt.
Both are exquisitely dressed all the time and sometimes, when she looks at them, she can’t believe they work so well together; it’s like watching a perfectly oiled, flawless magic act that never fails to impress its audience.
And then sometimes, she thinks they’re really mechanical droids (the kind that likes chicken salad and steals mints from her candy bowl) that are only capable of feeling anger and glee.
~*~
“Judith, may I see you in my office?”
She saves the file she’s been working on and turns off her monitor before leaving her desk to go towards the double doors at the end of the hallway. It’s her fourth month on the job and there’s yet to be an incident which Mr. Dominic had said would warrant her other skills.
She knocks on the door first before turning the handle.
“Ms. DeWitt?” she says, when she sees that her boss has her back towards her. Her eyes dart to Ms. DeWitt’s shoes which she admires for a few seconds. She then lifts her head up quickly before her boss notices what she’s doing.
Ms. DeWitt turns her head. She sees a quick smile form on her face before it disappears.
“Judith.” She greets, seemingly pleased with her appearance.
She walks towards the older woman, “Yes, ma’am?”
“Could you call Franklin - from downstairs - and ask him or any of his assistants to get Mr. Dominic’s-”
“-Ma’am it isn’t necessary.”
Mr. Dominic’s voice startles her slightly and she looks towards the direction of his voice.
Her eyes widen at the sight of him.
Green, wet goo covers the right side of Mr. Dominic’s body and there are spatters of it on his cheek and his hair. The goo is dripping on the carpet. And he’s fuming. And green.
Right now, Laurence Dominic is a large, green, angry man.
She presses her lips together and looks away.
“Don’t start, Judith.” Mr. Dominic says to her in a threatening tone. She closes her eyes and shakes her head. He’s the Incredible Hulk, without the bulk (and the purple pants)
“There’s no need, ma’am. I can rush back home and change-”
“Nonsense, Mr. Dominic. You don’t know what Mr. Brink mixed in that… green liquid of his. Franklin and his staff can take care of your coat and trousers.” Ms. DeWitt chides, “And I doubt you’d want to be seen green.” She adds in a light tone.
She looks at her boss and finds her trying to hold back a laugh.
“Ma’am, if I may, Topher Brink is a security risk and a childish ass!”
Ms. DeWitt shakes her head, as if she’s heard this complaint before. She then turns her attention back to her, “Call Franklin and tell him to bring a change of clothes for Mr. Dominic. And a washcloth.”
~*~
If she had any talent in writing at all, she would have already made a romance novel about them and be swimming in piles of money because it will be such a hit.
~*~
“Judith.”
She looks up from her table and sees Mr. Dominic looking at her with a very serious look on his face.
“Mr. Dominic.” She greets. He’s here to see her; if he’s here to see Ms. DeWitt, he’ll go straight towards the doors without fanfare or even a hello. (He’s the serious business type of guy).
He leans on her desk, “Do you know the name of the security officer who was on duty last Friday evening?”
She frowns a little, trying to put a name to the face she’s seeing in her mind, “I think his name is Gabe. Stocky guy, looked like he played football in college?” she offers.
“Hmm.” He says, looking around the security cameras around the area, “I need you to do an inventory of DeWitt’s files.”
“Okay, I can do that.” She answers.
He looks at her, expecting her to ask a question. When she didn’t ask any, he gives her a half-smile (the only kind that he’s capable of, it seems), “Call me immediately if there’s anything missing.” He says, then leaves, but not before taking a handful of chocolate-flavored mints from her candy bowl.
“You’re welcome.” She calls out.
~*~
They’re not “just colleagues”; that kind of relationship does not involve scary sexual tension, numerous inside jokes that only the two of them can understand or the ability to communicate without saying words.
Best friends, maybe. But they’re too formal and stiff around each other, and even if that’s a joke between them, she doubts that best friends still address each other formally when they’re concerned about the other’s safety or act like it’s the most awkward thing to do.
Obviously, they do not see each other as brother and sister.
They’re probably not lovers. Although she doesn’t really mind being proven wrong because she likes to think that after staring at each other with burning intensity for a several hours at work, something gratifying must come out of it at the end of the day.
Thinking about it, there probably isn’t any word at all to describe the two of them together.
~*~
She locks them in the office and confiscates their IDs to prevent them from using the private elevator (and any elevator, for that matter) to escape her watch and go on to other floors to infect everybody with that happy drug they’re currently “contaminated” with (thanks a lot, Topher).
Right now, she’s trying to finish the end-of-the-month budget report for tomorrow, but Ms. DeWitt and Mr. Dominic’s constant use of the speaker phone just to bug her is driving her up the wall.
She tries ignoring them the first few times, but they are relentless. And the fact that they’re still holding a conversation even when they’re convincing her to let them out is just… unbelievable.
“Judith. You have seven seccccconds.”
“My shoes are lovely, Judith. And I believe they were made so that I can walk around the House as I please.
“Your shoes are lovely, Ma’am. Judith likes them.”
“Thank you, Mr. Dominic. You can have my shoes if you want, Judith. Just unbolt the damn doors.”
Then, “We’re not high anymore, Judith. You can let us out.”
Which is followed by:
“Juuuuuuudiiiiiiiiith.”
“Dith-dith-ju-ju-dith-dith.”
“Judith. Judith. Judith. Let us out, Judith. Judith. Judith. Judith. We don’t eat people, Judith.”
Ms. DeWitt giggles in the background, “Mr. Dominic, I think we’re annoying the poor girl.” Her boss says.
“Okay.”
The speaker phone goes silent. She then hears a small click and she heaves a sigh in relief. Finally.
She turns her attention back to the computer monitor and begins typing away.
And then the speaker switches on again.
“Na-na-na-na-na! Yo-yo-yo! J to the Dith, who’s currently acting like a Sith-”
“-what’s a Sith?”
“The bad guys from Star Wars, Ma’am.”
“Oh.”
“Come on, Judith. I have Head of Security matters to attend to. Ms. DeWitt has Very Important Stuff to do. Don’t pretend to-wait,” Mr. Dominic shuts up for a few seconds, “you haven’t seen Star Wars?” he asks, but she’s quite sure the question is not directed to her.
“No.”
“You should watch it. I could watch it with you if you’d like. Maaaan, those movies are so awesome. Except for the recent ones. But, yeah. Genius.”
She buries her face in her hands. It’s amusing to listen to them, frankly speaking, but they’re not the ones with a deadline tomorrow.
“Is that the movie with a Darth Vader and his white robots?”
“They’re not robots, Ma’am.”
“They aren’t?”
“Nope. They’re clones.”
She sighs and looks at her watch. She has two more hours of this.
~*~
Sometimes, when the rumour mill ran rampant, she’d wonder if they knew that people were gossiping about them; that people were seeing something between the two of them and was probably being blown up to extreme proportions.
They probably didn’t care.
~*~
And just like that, he was gone.
She doesn’t know the whole story, and she doesn’t ask (doesn’t dare to ask). What she knows is that Mr. Dominic is a spy and that he didn’t go down easily, judging from the mess in Ms. DeWitt’s office.
She had housekeeping clear the shattered glass on the floor immediately, and had the broken windows replaced. There were several bullet holes on the wooden panels of the wall and she had to pressure Carpentry to finish fixing them before Monday morning.
When Ms. DeWitt comes back to work, she was all business as usual and acting like nothing remotely devastating happened. She receives clients, meets with Mr. Langton (who, more or less, acted bemused and out of place during the first few months).
And she never mentions Mr. Dominic by his name again.
She was as polished and exquisite as she was before. It was mighty impressive, actually. She had actually believed Adelle DeWitt wasn’t affected by the betrayal all.
~*~
She doesn’t know if the Head of Security’s duplicity directly led to the Head of the House’s downward spiral, or if it was just one of the many threads that had contributed to it.
But one thing’s for certain: the tea is now just an act and she’s starting to replenish the liquor cabinet more often than usual.
~*~
Ms. DeWitt cut her hair because that’s her way of mourning her loss of Mr. Dominic.
Or at least, that’s what she thinks.
~*~
Matthew Harding is a skeevy, chauvinistic bastard. Clive Ambrose is an overcompensating, chauvinistic bastard. Actually, almost all the men who passes by her desk are chauvinistic bastards (except for Mr. Langton).
It’s more than enough for her to just take the shotgun from under her table and start shooting.
But of course she can’t do that. She’s at the fiftieth floor with no means of escape. She’ll be caught in no time.
Ms. DeWitt doesn’t talk to her and she refuses to meet her gaze. Mr. Langton isn’t of much help either; he looks preoccupied most of the time and he’s not really the talkative type. He’s also still a bit confused with what his job entails. The only person who was somewhat fun was Mr. Ballard, and he’s nowhere to be seen.
She hates the new management.
~*~
“I know what you’re thinking.”
She glances at the woman lounged on the leather couch, with dark circles under her eyes. She’s holding an empty glass in her hand and she’s watching her clean up the other empty glasses on top of her desk.
Mr. Langton might be the only person other than her who knows that Adelle DeWitt has turned into a drunken mess, but she’s the only one who knows how much (and how often) she actually drinks. At this state, Adelle DeWitt is more irritable, more prone to shouting. Sometimes, she gets so unbearable, but…
She can’t continue her line of thought so she just mentally calculates the amount of alcohol she needs to replace. Maybe she should lay off ordering the scotch.
“I’m a pathetic, miserable, drunken hag.” Ms. DeWitt states.
She doesn’t say anything. But she doesn’t continue with what she’s doing either.
“Say something, Judith.”
She shakes her head, “I’m in no position to say anything, Ms. DeWitt.”
The older woman scoffs and rolls her eyes, “Of all the people in this damn corporation, you’re the only one who’s in the position to tell me what you really think of me.” Suddenly, the hard gaze she didn’t realize she’s giving her boss softens which then makes Ms. DeWitt look away.
“Well,” she starts. Her heart thumps a little harder against her chest. She hasn’t been asked this before, “You're not a hag.” She offers, rather weakly.
She hears a derisive snort. Ms. DeWitt puts the glass on top of the coffee table and touches her forehead, “How kind of you.”
She takes a deep breath. She’s asking for a wake-up call. She can give her one, “You're losing grip. You're trying to keep everything-and I mean everything-inside and it’s getting unbearable. And you're coping with alcohol which I don’t understand at all because you want to be in control and alcohol just makes everything complicated and uncontrollable.”
Ms. DeWitt closes her eyes and lets her head fall back on the couch, “Thank you, Judith.”
She wasn’t finished yet, but she accepts the dismissal and takes all the empty bottles and empty glasses - including the one on top of the coffee table - and leaves the room.
~*~
She was told to leave and go as far away as possible, never to come back. She wasn’t given any reasons, only that it’s the apocalypse and that its for her own safety.
But when the proverbial shit hits the fan, she went to the only place that she thought would be able to protect her.
She went back.
~*~
Ms. DeWitt was genuinely shocked when she discovered that she knows how to use a big damn gun.
She had used an M161 to blast a mindless butcher to kingdom come and saved several former Actives along the way.
Her (former) boss approached her when she was in the armory. They’ve been holed up in the Dollhouse facility for more than a few months and if they keep on getting uninvited mindless guests, they’ll run low on ammunition in a few weeks. Mr. Dominic’s gone, so are Echo and Paul.
“All this time, you know how to fire a weapon?” Ms. DeWitt asks, almost in wonder.
She can also ask her the same question, but the answer will probably be a predictable one like, ‘Mr. Dominic taught me’.
“Pretty much.” She says. Ms. DeWitt’s head cocks a little to the side, “It was part of the job description.” She clarifies, “Mr. Dominic said something about crazy clients.”
Ms. DeWitt gives her a look. It suddenly dawns on her that Mr. Dominic was probably looking for a bodyguard who can do executive assistant duties and not a dangerous executive assistant.
Ms. DeWitt pulls up, something she does when she’s slightly discomfited and nods her head, “I see.”
She hands Adelle DeWitt a rag, and together, cleaned their guns.
~*~
Safe haven is neither safe nor a haven.
But it’ll do.
~*~
They’ve been avoiding each other like the plague.
When Dominic’s in the kitchen, Adelle will be in the back, overseeing the water collection. When Dominic’s outside, Adelle’s inside. When Dominic is in the first floor, Adelle will be in the second floor. If they find themselves in the same room, one of them leaves after a beat or two.
It was getting stupid. Especially since he doesn’t really stay long.
No one wants to intervene. They all believe it’s going to resolve itself.
The idiots.
~*~
“You're looking well, Judith.”
She looks up from the vegetable patch and sees Dominic standing a few feet away from her, his hands in his pants pocket. He’s scruffy and very dirty looking. The perfect suits he used to wear are now replaced by fatigues and torn jackets.
“I… really can’t say the same for you, Dominic.” She replies and flashes him a smile. There’s a fresh wound by his forehead and he looks so tired. She takes the cabbages she just collected and puts them in the basket before standing up. She brushes her hands on her jeans, “Are you outside because Adelle’s inside?” it took her long enough to get used calling Ms. DeWitt by her first name.
“No.” he says. She raises a brow, “Why is it relevant?”
“Because it’s stupid.” She replies, shrugging. She lifts the basket up and walks towards him, “Really stupid.”
“It’s complicated.”
She starts walking towards the house, “You know what. The world has ended. Both of you survived. How complicated can things between two people get after that?”
“You don’t know what happened.” He retorts, walking beside her.
“Oh, trust me, I do.” She says and glances at him, “Don’t you remember? Queen of Gossip, The Omniscient One, Oh All Knowing Seer?”
Dominic smirks, “I remember.”
“Stop making it complicated.”
~*~
“Consider two atoms. A distance R apart. Because they are electrically neutral, you might suppose there would be no force between them…”
Topher’s sitting on top of the steps, watching her check the laundry drying under the harsh glare of the sun.
“… but if they’re polarizable, there is, in fact, a weak interaction. They're not exactly opposite or different. It’s just that once they meet at a certain point, they could interact. And interact they did. Awesomely.”
She frowns slightly and she looks at her ward (for a few hours). She raises a brow, “What’s your story about, Topher?”
He makes a funny face. It’s one of his good days today. Being outside makes him a little calmer, “Van der Waals.” He replies.
“Hmm.” She says, nodding her head. She has no idea who Van der Waals is. Or what. Or what branch of science he/it belongs to.
“Describes Adelle and Dom perfectly.” He adds, his hands flailing a bit. “Physics.”
“Oh.” She goes towards him, “Wow. Physics.”
He wraps his arms around his knees, “They’ve always, always liked each other. Noticed it before, noticed it now. ‘cept now, she’s not his boss anymore. She’s still the boss here, though.” He says, with a grin.
She sits beside him and he looks at her, “I don’t want to bother them-but maybe later. Can I stay here with you ‘til dinner?”
She smiles at him, “Sure.”
~*~
After how many years, she finally had the chance to ask him the real reason why he wanted an executive assistant who’s proficient with weapons.
His answer was simple. It’s because he wouldn’t always be by her side.
~*~
“So, what’s the deal between the two of them?”
She looks to where Max, one of the new arrivals at their haven, is looking- Adelle and Dominic, who were in the kitchen washing the dishes and, well, cleaning the kitchen. She gives him a disapproving gaze. Fine, he’s a bit dense and can sometimes fail at social interaction. But if he really can’t see the obvious, there really is no helping him.
“I don’t know, Max. Why don’t you ask them yourself?” she replies.
Max looks at her, slightly confused, “But they told me if I have questions, I should ask you. She’s the boss, right?”
“Yep.”
“And that guy with her is the guy who goes out and gets supplies and takes the Actuals here. What are they together…?”
She turns towards the younger man and looks at him directly in the eye, “Max, you can ask me about anything. Anything except them. Am I making myself clear?”
Max nods his head.
Because even after all these years, she’s still the wrong person to ask about these things.
FIN