Dollhouse fic: "Detachment"
Mar. 25th, 2010 01:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
meridian_roseTitle: Detachment
Word Count: 212
Fandom: Dollhouse
Prompt: for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
whedonland's challenge prompt "A Spy In The House of Love"
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: Adelle reflects on the betrayal
She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of showing him any emotion. Not rage. Not grief. Not mercy or compassion.
He'd saved her life, on more than one occasion. She'd shared secrets with him, both personal and professional. For three years he'd been her most trusted, loyal, staff member. Not a doll, not a self-obsessed genius, just a man with skills she respected and a professionalism she trusted.
She wouldn't let him see her cry. She was outwardly cold, as big business demanded of all, and especially of female employees. Her heart was as stone, they said. It was a lie.
So she wept into Roger's chest. He was a lie, too, a creation. But he wouldn't judge her, and she needed to release the emotions that, despite her protestations, she felt. She would have to punish Laurence, and harshly. She could spare his life, perhaps; she could send him to the Attic.
Was that worse than death? Who cared? She didn't want him dead, because, deep down, she still cared. She didn't want him dead because that would be too easy on him.
Her heart was broken and she grieved, briefly.
And then she sent Laurence Dominic to the Attic, with cold resolve on her face, and icy reserve in her heart.
Word Count: 212
Fandom: Dollhouse
Prompt: for
whedonland's challenge prompt "A Spy In The House of Love"Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: Adelle reflects on the betrayal
She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of showing him any emotion. Not rage. Not grief. Not mercy or compassion.
He'd saved her life, on more than one occasion. She'd shared secrets with him, both personal and professional. For three years he'd been her most trusted, loyal, staff member. Not a doll, not a self-obsessed genius, just a man with skills she respected and a professionalism she trusted.
She wouldn't let him see her cry. She was outwardly cold, as big business demanded of all, and especially of female employees. Her heart was as stone, they said. It was a lie.
So she wept into Roger's chest. He was a lie, too, a creation. But he wouldn't judge her, and she needed to release the emotions that, despite her protestations, she felt. She would have to punish Laurence, and harshly. She could spare his life, perhaps; she could send him to the Attic.
Was that worse than death? Who cared? She didn't want him dead, because, deep down, she still cared. She didn't want him dead because that would be too easy on him.
Her heart was broken and she grieved, briefly.
And then she sent Laurence Dominic to the Attic, with cold resolve on her face, and icy reserve in her heart.
