Rorschach Card II (The First Sign of Red) (1/1)
Title: Rorschach Card II (The First Sign of Red)
Genre: Television
Series: Dollhouse
Characters: Laurence Dominic, Adelle DeWitt
Spoilers: n/a
Rating: PG
Summary: Some visuals are impossible to forget, seared against the back of his eyelids as they were.
_____
“Mr. Dominic, consider yourself promoted.”
There was blood spattered across the sweep of her jaw, the drops blazed against her moon-kissed skin. As his eyes studied the scarlet beads she flexed her jaw and one of the coagulating tears slowly slid downward into the shadows under her chin. Dominic couldn't help but think the marks suited her; her face placid but fierce with her eyes doing all the detached emoting she was willing to indulge in.
The blood that decorated her right side continued downward, staining the silk blouse she wore but remained imperceptible on her dark skirt. Her hands were unfaltering as she steadied the gun, a small wisp of sulfur dissipating in front of the barrel. Dominic didn't need to handle the weapon to recognize it as a mirror of the gun model he held in his own hands. The fact that she handled it with the same grace and aplomb she handled everything notched up the considerable respect he already had for her; the fact that she'd used the gun to put down her traitorous chief of security notched up his fear.
“Ms. DeWitt, are you alright?” He forced the words past his clenching teeth, his aim steady on the prone figure that lay at her feet. He stepped further into the room quickly, could hear the footsteps of the rest of the security team as they entered the room behind him, and stooped to check for a pulse. He knew it was a fruitless endeavor, her kill shot had been straight to Mr. MacGregor's head, and even if not in such close quarters Ms. DeWitt was quite skilled in targeting. Her weekly visits to the shooting range in the sub-levels were clear evidence of that, though Dominic could never be sure if she practiced there for convenience or intimidation.
“Quite fine.” She tilted her head as she turned her body towards him, her arms relaxing and the gun resting neatly almost out of sight at her side.
Dominic pulled his fingers away from the rapidly cooling skin of his former supervisor and resisted the urge to wipe away the blood that now decorated his fingertips. He stood and gestured for his team to remove the body before he stood and stepped over it with enough nonchalance that DeWitt noted it with a quirked eyebrow.
Her dossier had included photos from every possible angle (and in every state of dress and undress), but nothing could have prepared him for actually interacting with Adelle DeWitt. In her pictures she looked regal and cold, and while the grace and poise were evident in real life as well, the warmth that vibrated from her was something that no camera could capture. Dominic had seen her angry, amused, happy, horrified, and blessedly numb; he had never associated her with cold before that afternoon.
She sipped her tea with a hand that had the tiniest freckles of blood on it, and smiled slightly at him over the rim. “I have very low tolerance for betrayal, Mr. Dominic. I warned Mr. MacGregor of that when he became my Chief of Security. Do I need to give you the same warning?”
The cleaning service entered the room and placed the corpse in a body bag, within seconds it was gone and Dominic knew it would be heading to disposal immediately. “No, I don't believe you do.” The strong smell of bleach and soap entered the air and overwhelmed the soft scent of fresh flowers that DeWitt preferred.
“Would you like a cup of tea, Mr. Dominic?” She asked, before her smile grew larger and made her eyes dance with mirth. “I apologize. You prefer coffee, no milk, one sugar.” He kept his face blank, but as an intimidation move it was strong. Dominic only drank his coffee black while in the Dollhouse, but at home with his higher grade coffee he did add one sugar. He mimicked her earlier movement of lifting one eyebrow and nodded slowly, refusing to show that she'd surprised him.
DeWitt sat herself behind her desk, reaching for the intercom with her clean hand. “Judith, please bring Mr. Dominic his coffee, and a pitcher of tea for me? If you could also have housekeeping move his things to the Head of Security office, please.” There was a small noise of the affirmative that was cut off when DeWitt released the intercom. “You're military trained, Mr. Dominic. Marines, wasn't it?”
He knew she didn't need him to refresh her memory on the history the N.S.A. had drafted for him, however, if that was the game she wished to start then he would play along. “Five years, before being dishonorably discharged for classified charges.”
“Murder of a superior officer, though from the reports it was warranted,” DeWitt added, smiling and tilting her head in amusement.
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Please,” she started, “call me Ms. DeWitt.”
Dominic nodded, but didn't reply as Judith let herself into the room with a small tray of beverages just as the cleaning crew was leaving. Within seconds the room was empty of everyone but the two of them. DeWitt gestured for him to sit before reaching for her tea. Dominic did so, but not without some internal trepidation. DeWitt waited until he'd sat down before continuing. “Have you ever been to the Attic, Mr. Dominic?”
“No,” he replied immediately, “though I've heard different explanations as to what it is.”
“Finish your coffee and I'll give you the full tour,” she started to smile and Dominic instinctively didn't like the feeling it gave him in his stomach. “Something tells me you'll appreciate it.”
_____
Three and a half years later Laurence Dominic is strapped to the imprinting chair and watching Adelle DeWitt bleed from her left side. He looked at her as they lowered the chair and the light blinded the edges of his vision. Black spots danced in his sight as his body seized and on her face they looked like blood.
_____
Review, please.
Genre: Television
Series: Dollhouse
Characters: Laurence Dominic, Adelle DeWitt
Spoilers: n/a
Rating: PG
Summary: Some visuals are impossible to forget, seared against the back of his eyelids as they were.
_____
“Mr. Dominic, consider yourself promoted.”
There was blood spattered across the sweep of her jaw, the drops blazed against her moon-kissed skin. As his eyes studied the scarlet beads she flexed her jaw and one of the coagulating tears slowly slid downward into the shadows under her chin. Dominic couldn't help but think the marks suited her; her face placid but fierce with her eyes doing all the detached emoting she was willing to indulge in.
The blood that decorated her right side continued downward, staining the silk blouse she wore but remained imperceptible on her dark skirt. Her hands were unfaltering as she steadied the gun, a small wisp of sulfur dissipating in front of the barrel. Dominic didn't need to handle the weapon to recognize it as a mirror of the gun model he held in his own hands. The fact that she handled it with the same grace and aplomb she handled everything notched up the considerable respect he already had for her; the fact that she'd used the gun to put down her traitorous chief of security notched up his fear.
“Ms. DeWitt, are you alright?” He forced the words past his clenching teeth, his aim steady on the prone figure that lay at her feet. He stepped further into the room quickly, could hear the footsteps of the rest of the security team as they entered the room behind him, and stooped to check for a pulse. He knew it was a fruitless endeavor, her kill shot had been straight to Mr. MacGregor's head, and even if not in such close quarters Ms. DeWitt was quite skilled in targeting. Her weekly visits to the shooting range in the sub-levels were clear evidence of that, though Dominic could never be sure if she practiced there for convenience or intimidation.
“Quite fine.” She tilted her head as she turned her body towards him, her arms relaxing and the gun resting neatly almost out of sight at her side.
Dominic pulled his fingers away from the rapidly cooling skin of his former supervisor and resisted the urge to wipe away the blood that now decorated his fingertips. He stood and gestured for his team to remove the body before he stood and stepped over it with enough nonchalance that DeWitt noted it with a quirked eyebrow.
Her dossier had included photos from every possible angle (and in every state of dress and undress), but nothing could have prepared him for actually interacting with Adelle DeWitt. In her pictures she looked regal and cold, and while the grace and poise were evident in real life as well, the warmth that vibrated from her was something that no camera could capture. Dominic had seen her angry, amused, happy, horrified, and blessedly numb; he had never associated her with cold before that afternoon.
She sipped her tea with a hand that had the tiniest freckles of blood on it, and smiled slightly at him over the rim. “I have very low tolerance for betrayal, Mr. Dominic. I warned Mr. MacGregor of that when he became my Chief of Security. Do I need to give you the same warning?”
The cleaning service entered the room and placed the corpse in a body bag, within seconds it was gone and Dominic knew it would be heading to disposal immediately. “No, I don't believe you do.” The strong smell of bleach and soap entered the air and overwhelmed the soft scent of fresh flowers that DeWitt preferred.
“Would you like a cup of tea, Mr. Dominic?” She asked, before her smile grew larger and made her eyes dance with mirth. “I apologize. You prefer coffee, no milk, one sugar.” He kept his face blank, but as an intimidation move it was strong. Dominic only drank his coffee black while in the Dollhouse, but at home with his higher grade coffee he did add one sugar. He mimicked her earlier movement of lifting one eyebrow and nodded slowly, refusing to show that she'd surprised him.
DeWitt sat herself behind her desk, reaching for the intercom with her clean hand. “Judith, please bring Mr. Dominic his coffee, and a pitcher of tea for me? If you could also have housekeeping move his things to the Head of Security office, please.” There was a small noise of the affirmative that was cut off when DeWitt released the intercom. “You're military trained, Mr. Dominic. Marines, wasn't it?”
He knew she didn't need him to refresh her memory on the history the N.S.A. had drafted for him, however, if that was the game she wished to start then he would play along. “Five years, before being dishonorably discharged for classified charges.”
“Murder of a superior officer, though from the reports it was warranted,” DeWitt added, smiling and tilting her head in amusement.
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Please,” she started, “call me Ms. DeWitt.”
Dominic nodded, but didn't reply as Judith let herself into the room with a small tray of beverages just as the cleaning crew was leaving. Within seconds the room was empty of everyone but the two of them. DeWitt gestured for him to sit before reaching for her tea. Dominic did so, but not without some internal trepidation. DeWitt waited until he'd sat down before continuing. “Have you ever been to the Attic, Mr. Dominic?”
“No,” he replied immediately, “though I've heard different explanations as to what it is.”
“Finish your coffee and I'll give you the full tour,” she started to smile and Dominic instinctively didn't like the feeling it gave him in his stomach. “Something tells me you'll appreciate it.”
_____
Three and a half years later Laurence Dominic is strapped to the imprinting chair and watching Adelle DeWitt bleed from her left side. He looked at her as they lowered the chair and the light blinded the edges of his vision. Black spots danced in his sight as his body seized and on her face they looked like blood.
_____
Review, please.