Dollhouse fic: Guys like him don't die easily; PG-13
Title: Guys like him don't die easily
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Laurence Dominic, Adelle DeWitt, Priya, Echo, Tony; DeWitt/Dominic
Words: 1, 573
Summary: "Put him back in the Attic. It's his best hope."
Notes: Written for au_bingo, Free box-- alternate history: canon event changed. I made this at 3 in the morning. I apologize for the mistakes and for all the pain I may have caused by tricking you into reading this.
“No, no you bitch, I’d rather die.”
“Well, I’d rather you didn’t.”
~*~
His fall back into the abyss was excruciating. The void swallows him whole and there is nothing to run away to, nothing to escape from. He is alone in this dark, empty space and he curses her name for forcing him to go back to it.
~*~
“Sir, can you hear us? Can you tell us your name?”
~*~
The Attic isn’t the same program as it was when Clyde arrived. It’s a program that adapts, a program that can determine when it’s supposed to change something in itself when required. Despite what its programmers may believe, the Attic is a living, breathing creature. Only the wretched beings hooked up to it would know just how alive it is.
Barren, grey nothingness. That split moment when he was with the living seems to translate into years in here. Everybody’s gone.
“Put him back to the Attic. It’s his best hope.”
The chill digs through his bones and he drags his legs to walk on the uneven road. He has no idea where he is, or what this is supposed to be. A road to nowhere with very little scenery.
He can’t stay here.
His legs suddenly give out on him. He tumbles over, his head crashing onto the pavement. Pain bursts on the side of his head and a wave of nausea overwhelms him. His chest violently spasms and his breath clogs his throat.
He wheezes and fights his own body to be able to breathe. The effort alone makes his eyes water. His heart hammers against his ribcage and he can feel a prickling sensation at the very tips of his fingers. He feels like he’s being ripped apart.
Laurence Dominic screams in pain.
~*~
At some point, his muscles freeze up, paralyzing him. He’s imprisoned in his own body. He couldn’t move, couldn’t bring himself to stand up and walk.
At any moment, his nightmare can come swooping in and kill him right at an instant.
He is not going to die here.
~*~
An agonizing screech rings in his ears and wakes up to find himself curled tightly in fetal position. He blinks several times, testing out his hands and legs.
Well, he’s definitely not paralyzed anymore.
He pulls himself together to get to his knees and it takes all his strength to stand up.
When he stretches his knees, his vision starts to spin. He feels himself tilting to the side and he catches himself just in time to stop himself from falling again.
And then his stomach retches.
He throws up right then and there, his back shuddering every time he gags. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before looking around blearily.
He has to find a way to get out of here.
~*~
He hears the rumble of the rushing water before the large wave crashes into him and starts drowning him.
~*~
“Guys like him don’t die easily.”
“The perfect soldier.”
~*~
He doesn’t know how he did it, but despite the seemingly bottomless body of water, he doesn’t drown. He wakes up in a room, lying on his back and drenched from head to toe.
The room smells somewhat moldy, but a faint whiff of perfume alerts him to the presence of another person in the room.
Despite feeling very weak, he props himself up on his arm.
And he comes face to face with Adelle DeWitt.
Dread sneaks up behind him, but it’s accompanied by warmth- and he hates the way that feeling easily slips by him.
“I’m going to kill you.” Laurence says out loud. His throat is parched and it feels as if someone’s rubbing sandpaper on it.
“I don’t doubt it, Mr. Dominic.” She replies. He remembers her the same way he saw her last-short hair, tired face. Miserable.
He watches as she takes a small glass of water from the table and hands it to him, “You must be thirsty.” She remarks, “Don’t worry; it isn’t poisoned.”
“You’re my nightmare.” It’s taking a bit of an effort to talk.
She doesn’t say anything. Will she try stabbing him? Maybe choke him to death?
He eyes the glass of water she’s offering him. He waits for beat before taking it from her, his fingers clumsily trying to grasp the smooth surface. She obviously notices and doesn’t let go. Instead, she assists him with drinking the water.
“If you’re not my nightmare, then what are you?”
“I don’t know. What do you think?”
He thinks for a minute, “My mind mocking me.”
She considers his answer, “You should rest.” She says, after a while.
“Would it matter?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Adelle reaches out and gently brushes her hand on his forehead, “So you could join us back here.”
He grabs her wrist before she pulls it back towards her side. She looks at him sharply but doesn’t pry his fingers away.
He stares at her until he feels his eyelids drooping heavily. He tries to shake away the drowsiness, but he lets her go after several minutes and almost resignedly lies down on his back.
“I’m not afraid of you.” He mutters as his eyes flutter to a close.
“You never were, Mr. Dominic.”
~*~
“Let me take him.”
“It’s done, Mr. Ballard.”
“No, it isn’t. Let me take him to a hospital- the nearest is less than a mile away; it’s faster to bring him to the ER than wait for your people to sedate him, hook him up to the machines and bring him back to the Attic.”
“And if Mr. Dominic dies en route, Mr. Ballard. What will you do then?”
“He’s not going to die. Not on my watch.
~*~
Laurence wakes up feeling much better than any of the past times he had woken up. He somehow feels rejuvenated, lighter. And even a bit hungry.
Which is strange, considering he doesn’t feel hunger in the Attic.
He sits up, which is considerably easier this time ‘round. He rubs the base of his neck and his shoulder, smoothing out the cricks, by the shoulder blade.
A glance around tells him that he’s still in the same room. No magical teleportation of some sort had happened while he was asleep. There’s a chair a few steps in front of him, with a folded blanket and a book on top of it. A bottle of water sits on top of a dresser.
Then he realizes he’s sitting on a bed. And he’s wearing a hospital gown.
He blinks, confused. He tries to connect his thoughts - those disjointed bits of memory - stitching them up to make sense of what’s happening to him right now.
It’s either he’s in the Attic and his body has re-adapted to it… or hell froze over and Adelle’s will wasn’t done.
He puts his feet on the floor. The cement is cold.
He then hoists himself up, grabbing onto the headboard for support. His knees wobble as he stands but quickly steadies itself after a few minutes.
Laurence slowly walks towards the door. His stomach starts to grumble quite loudly and he’s suddenly aware that his hands are shaking slightly. He rubs his hands on his arms before turning the doorknob and stepping out.
He’s in a warehouse. Or what he thinks is a warehouse. The ceiling is way above him and the space in front of him is wide. There’s a group of people huddled in the middle. He can’t see them clearly from where he’s standing, so he makes his way towards them.
“You’re up.”
It’s Priya who notices him first. The group then disbands, and he can now see all of them. Ballard, Tony, Priya, Echo and Adelle.
Priya rushes to him, “I don’t think you should be walking around.” She says with grave concern.
“I’m feeling okay.” He says. Echo, Tony and Ballard are also on approach. He keeps his gaze at Adelle, but finds the need to look at Sierra-Priya when he asks, “What am I doing here?”
“We were afraid Boyd would have had you killed after Paul brought you to the hospital.” Tony answers.
“Why would Boyd have me killed?” Boyd isn’t here, which itself is curious since the man’s practically glued to Echo’s side. Topher isn’t here either.
A bout of awkward silence follows. Echo finally answers, “It’s a long story.”
“So, I’m not in the Attic?”
Echo smiles wanly at him, “No, you’re not.”
Laurence looks at Adelle, who’s definitely not looking at him, “I see.” He glances back at Echo, “How long have I been out?”
“Two weeks.”
He can only grunt out a response. That was a long time.
His knees start to shake again and he can’t help but hold on to Tony’s shoulder to keep himself from dropping on the floor. He swallows hard and takes a deep breath, “Yeah, I think I should sit down.” He mutters.
Tony brings him to the table and, quite conveniently (or tempting fate), sits him in the empty seat beside Adelle, who purposefully averts her eyes from him.
He notices the blueprints on the table. Rossum Corp’s logo is etched at the edge of the plans.
Laurence looks to his side and sees Adelle observing him. She looks like she hadn’t had any sleep the past few weeks.
He turns to the group, “So. What did I miss?”
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Laurence Dominic, Adelle DeWitt, Priya, Echo, Tony; DeWitt/Dominic
Words: 1, 573
Summary: "Put him back in the Attic. It's his best hope."
Notes: Written for au_bingo, Free box-- alternate history: canon event changed. I made this at 3 in the morning. I apologize for the mistakes and for all the pain I may have caused by tricking you into reading this.
“No, no you bitch, I’d rather die.”
“Well, I’d rather you didn’t.”
~*~
His fall back into the abyss was excruciating. The void swallows him whole and there is nothing to run away to, nothing to escape from. He is alone in this dark, empty space and he curses her name for forcing him to go back to it.
~*~
“Sir, can you hear us? Can you tell us your name?”
~*~
The Attic isn’t the same program as it was when Clyde arrived. It’s a program that adapts, a program that can determine when it’s supposed to change something in itself when required. Despite what its programmers may believe, the Attic is a living, breathing creature. Only the wretched beings hooked up to it would know just how alive it is.
Barren, grey nothingness. That split moment when he was with the living seems to translate into years in here. Everybody’s gone.
“Put him back to the Attic. It’s his best hope.”
The chill digs through his bones and he drags his legs to walk on the uneven road. He has no idea where he is, or what this is supposed to be. A road to nowhere with very little scenery.
He can’t stay here.
His legs suddenly give out on him. He tumbles over, his head crashing onto the pavement. Pain bursts on the side of his head and a wave of nausea overwhelms him. His chest violently spasms and his breath clogs his throat.
He wheezes and fights his own body to be able to breathe. The effort alone makes his eyes water. His heart hammers against his ribcage and he can feel a prickling sensation at the very tips of his fingers. He feels like he’s being ripped apart.
Laurence Dominic screams in pain.
~*~
At some point, his muscles freeze up, paralyzing him. He’s imprisoned in his own body. He couldn’t move, couldn’t bring himself to stand up and walk.
At any moment, his nightmare can come swooping in and kill him right at an instant.
He is not going to die here.
~*~
An agonizing screech rings in his ears and wakes up to find himself curled tightly in fetal position. He blinks several times, testing out his hands and legs.
Well, he’s definitely not paralyzed anymore.
He pulls himself together to get to his knees and it takes all his strength to stand up.
When he stretches his knees, his vision starts to spin. He feels himself tilting to the side and he catches himself just in time to stop himself from falling again.
And then his stomach retches.
He throws up right then and there, his back shuddering every time he gags. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before looking around blearily.
He has to find a way to get out of here.
~*~
He hears the rumble of the rushing water before the large wave crashes into him and starts drowning him.
~*~
“Guys like him don’t die easily.”
“The perfect soldier.”
~*~
He doesn’t know how he did it, but despite the seemingly bottomless body of water, he doesn’t drown. He wakes up in a room, lying on his back and drenched from head to toe.
The room smells somewhat moldy, but a faint whiff of perfume alerts him to the presence of another person in the room.
Despite feeling very weak, he props himself up on his arm.
And he comes face to face with Adelle DeWitt.
Dread sneaks up behind him, but it’s accompanied by warmth- and he hates the way that feeling easily slips by him.
“I’m going to kill you.” Laurence says out loud. His throat is parched and it feels as if someone’s rubbing sandpaper on it.
“I don’t doubt it, Mr. Dominic.” She replies. He remembers her the same way he saw her last-short hair, tired face. Miserable.
He watches as she takes a small glass of water from the table and hands it to him, “You must be thirsty.” She remarks, “Don’t worry; it isn’t poisoned.”
“You’re my nightmare.” It’s taking a bit of an effort to talk.
She doesn’t say anything. Will she try stabbing him? Maybe choke him to death?
He eyes the glass of water she’s offering him. He waits for beat before taking it from her, his fingers clumsily trying to grasp the smooth surface. She obviously notices and doesn’t let go. Instead, she assists him with drinking the water.
“If you’re not my nightmare, then what are you?”
“I don’t know. What do you think?”
He thinks for a minute, “My mind mocking me.”
She considers his answer, “You should rest.” She says, after a while.
“Would it matter?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Adelle reaches out and gently brushes her hand on his forehead, “So you could join us back here.”
He grabs her wrist before she pulls it back towards her side. She looks at him sharply but doesn’t pry his fingers away.
He stares at her until he feels his eyelids drooping heavily. He tries to shake away the drowsiness, but he lets her go after several minutes and almost resignedly lies down on his back.
“I’m not afraid of you.” He mutters as his eyes flutter to a close.
“You never were, Mr. Dominic.”
~*~
“Let me take him.”
“It’s done, Mr. Ballard.”
“No, it isn’t. Let me take him to a hospital- the nearest is less than a mile away; it’s faster to bring him to the ER than wait for your people to sedate him, hook him up to the machines and bring him back to the Attic.”
“And if Mr. Dominic dies en route, Mr. Ballard. What will you do then?”
“He’s not going to die. Not on my watch.
~*~
Laurence wakes up feeling much better than any of the past times he had woken up. He somehow feels rejuvenated, lighter. And even a bit hungry.
Which is strange, considering he doesn’t feel hunger in the Attic.
He sits up, which is considerably easier this time ‘round. He rubs the base of his neck and his shoulder, smoothing out the cricks, by the shoulder blade.
A glance around tells him that he’s still in the same room. No magical teleportation of some sort had happened while he was asleep. There’s a chair a few steps in front of him, with a folded blanket and a book on top of it. A bottle of water sits on top of a dresser.
Then he realizes he’s sitting on a bed. And he’s wearing a hospital gown.
He blinks, confused. He tries to connect his thoughts - those disjointed bits of memory - stitching them up to make sense of what’s happening to him right now.
It’s either he’s in the Attic and his body has re-adapted to it… or hell froze over and Adelle’s will wasn’t done.
He puts his feet on the floor. The cement is cold.
He then hoists himself up, grabbing onto the headboard for support. His knees wobble as he stands but quickly steadies itself after a few minutes.
Laurence slowly walks towards the door. His stomach starts to grumble quite loudly and he’s suddenly aware that his hands are shaking slightly. He rubs his hands on his arms before turning the doorknob and stepping out.
He’s in a warehouse. Or what he thinks is a warehouse. The ceiling is way above him and the space in front of him is wide. There’s a group of people huddled in the middle. He can’t see them clearly from where he’s standing, so he makes his way towards them.
“You’re up.”
It’s Priya who notices him first. The group then disbands, and he can now see all of them. Ballard, Tony, Priya, Echo and Adelle.
Priya rushes to him, “I don’t think you should be walking around.” She says with grave concern.
“I’m feeling okay.” He says. Echo, Tony and Ballard are also on approach. He keeps his gaze at Adelle, but finds the need to look at Sierra-Priya when he asks, “What am I doing here?”
“We were afraid Boyd would have had you killed after Paul brought you to the hospital.” Tony answers.
“Why would Boyd have me killed?” Boyd isn’t here, which itself is curious since the man’s practically glued to Echo’s side. Topher isn’t here either.
A bout of awkward silence follows. Echo finally answers, “It’s a long story.”
“So, I’m not in the Attic?”
Echo smiles wanly at him, “No, you’re not.”
Laurence looks at Adelle, who’s definitely not looking at him, “I see.” He glances back at Echo, “How long have I been out?”
“Two weeks.”
He can only grunt out a response. That was a long time.
His knees start to shake again and he can’t help but hold on to Tony’s shoulder to keep himself from dropping on the floor. He swallows hard and takes a deep breath, “Yeah, I think I should sit down.” He mutters.
Tony brings him to the table and, quite conveniently (or tempting fate), sits him in the empty seat beside Adelle, who purposefully averts her eyes from him.
He notices the blueprints on the table. Rossum Corp’s logo is etched at the edge of the plans.
Laurence looks to his side and sees Adelle observing him. She looks like she hadn’t had any sleep the past few weeks.
He turns to the group, “So. What did I miss?”