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franklin_bash2011-12-18 01:31 pm
fic: A Couple of Years and I'm a Silhouette
Author:
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teh_bugWordcount: 1372
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): gen
Warning(s): grey morals; stretching of both crossover canons
Notes: Ummm...so I may or may not have finished watching Dollhouse Season 1...and this was what my brain considered the logical result. Spoilers through the Season 1 of Dollhouse. Title is from "The Coldest Heart" by The Classic Crime
Summary: "So we can give [people] life after death?" "Only if we really like you." --Dollhouse 1x10 Stanton Infeld's favorite nephew is dead. Crossover with Dollhouse.
"My nephew is dead, Miss DeWitt, or he will be once the doctors unplug him," says Mr. Stanton Infeld tiredly over the rim of his tea cup. He takes a shallow sip, "I'm not quite sure if you were aware."
Miss Adelle DeWitt inclines her head forward respectfully, "I'm sorry for your loss. From what I hear, he was a great man."
"He was," Mr. Infeld takes another sip. "He was going to make judge in a few years, did you know that? He was up for review last year. If he hadn't changed districts, chances are he'd already be made one."
"You must have been so proud."
"I am. I was," Mr. Infeld corrects himself with a frown. "He was going to change the world."
The fountain shaped like a miniature waterfall on Miss DeWitt's desk gurgles quietly. The water ripples down the rocks and splashes to a gentle stop somewhere above a constant, secreted away drain.
"I first found out about your organization through a particularly crass friend of mine in '89," says Mr. Infeld. "Not an especially creative friend of mine, mind you, as far as I know, he only ever used your services for sexual encounters." He sips again and puts his cup on the glass table in front of him. "Naturally, once I found out more about the specific services your company provides, I was appalled and vowed to remove every last tendril of your presence."
Miss DeWitt takes a sip from her own cup. "It appears you've changed your tune," she says guardedly.
"My nephew is dead, Miss DeWitt. My dearest nephew is dead and my sister won't stop crying," Mr. Infeld breathes in deeply and folds his hands together, "I would like to hire you to bring him back."
"You want us to imprint your nephew's consciousness into an Active?"
"I want you to rebuild my nephew," clarifies Mr. Infeld sharply, "I want you to bring him back in a body that looks like his and let him live out the rest of his natural life as he was intended to."
"A rather hefty request," Miss DeWitt says contemplatively, ignoring the phrase "intended to." She taps her hand against the other hand holding the ceramic cup, "To be perfectly honest, I'm afraid I'm not entirely sure we have the resources here to handle it. Even if we did, you must know the price would not at all be small."
"I don't care about the price, the closest thing I had to a son is lying broken and mangled on a white hospital bed hooked up to more machines than the damn Terminator," Mr. Infeld's voice rises dangerously high and threatens to break. He reaches for his tea again and takes a deep drink to calm himself, "They left his arms behind, you know. They were too embedded in the metal."
"While I sympathize, Mr. Infeld, you do understand these things take time," Adelle spreads her hands to gesture at the futility of it all, "We have very few Actives available for the length of time you're requesting. The amount of plastic surgery required alone would take months of preparation, and then to reintegrate the Active back into mainstream society..."
"Yes, yes, of course," Stanton nods impatiently, cutting her off. He gestures to the door where Mr. Langton and his gun are waiting on the opposite side. "I hear you have a new head of security."
"You've heard a lot of things, Mr. Infeld," Miss DeWitt smiles polished and pragmatic, appearing professionally unconcerned at this sudden topic change. "It is true we've undergone some recent changes in staff, occurrences such as this happen in a business like as ours."
"So it would appear," agrees Mr. Infeld. He places his cup down with a soft clink. "What happened to the last one, may I ask? The one who looked like my nephew? Died honorably and heroic in the line of duty?"
"Something like that," allows Miss DeWitt.
"I see," Mr. Infeld folds his hands together. "Is that what you told his superiors at the NSA?"
The gurgling of the water fountain is deafeningly loud in the sudden stark silence.
Adelle's eyes harden and her grip around her cup tightens. She presses her lips together in a firm line, "You've done your research." She says coldly.
"I had had every intention of destroying your every whisper of existence. I was going to bring your house crashing down upon you like so many bricks," Stanton says simply, holding her gaze not even a degree softer, "but my nephew is dead and I want him back."
"And you'll do anything to get him back."
"Not anything," concedes Mr. Infeld. His voice fails to sound regretful, "but I suppose it is fortunate for my soul's sake that my nephew's doppelganger is already, how is it exactly you people say it, wiped and ready for imprinting?"
Miss Adelle DeWitt sets her tea cup to the side more force than necessary, "You do understand that what you are proposing is tantamount to blackmail, a move that will most certainly not endear you to my superiors."
"What I understand, Miss DeWitt," says Mr. Infeld with iron in his words, "is that I am proposing a legitimate business transaction. I will cease my attempts to end your abominable operation and in exchange you will give me back my nephew." He waves his hand distractedly, "In addition, I'm perfectly prepared to pay the full price of this endeavor."
"Please, Adelle," Mr. Infeld continues in a slightly softer tone, before she can respond with searing contempt, "I know your mother. I've known you since you were a little girl."
Miss DeWitt takes a sharp, harsh breath of invasion and attack. Her jawline tenses tight like a spring. "You've done your research," she snaps, "do you honestly think a little bit of sentimentality is going to suddenly make me fall apart?"
"I know your mother doesn't know what you do for a living," counters Mr. Infeld. His words are stones again. "I suspect even you would have a problem uncomplicating matters once she did."
Miss DeWitt rises from her chair angrily, "How dare you?" She breathes out icily.
Mr. Infeld looks up from his seat unafraid. "Like you said, Miss DeWitt, I am willing to do almost anything to get my nephew back."
"I could have you killed before you left this building."
"Yes, I suspect you could," Mr. Infeld doesn't protest, "but then you would have to go through all the hassle of trying to find out where exactly I got all my information and how best to prevent a repeat of such an incident."
"I could have you killed after our deal was complete."
"And to what end?" Mr. Infeld falls back into his chair, suddenly tired again. "If I were still insistent on ending your practice, do you truly believe I would be in here bartering for my nephew's life? Do you believe that I would come to you showing my hand and asking for a gift that I knew full well you could terminate with a single impertinent click of your mouse?"
Miss DeWitt takes a long breath through her nostrils and straightens her skirt. "All you want is your nephew back, am I correct?"
"All I want, Miss DeWitt? You make it sound so simple, as if my nephew can be condensed down into a single word," Mr. Infeld looks at the carpet in front of him. His lips tremble at the edges, "My nephew who cried against my shoulder when his father and every girlfriend in his teens left him. My nephew who never graduated less than top 3% of his class. My little nephew who wanted so much to impress the world and died feeling insignificant... My dear nephew is dead and you're the only ones I know who can bring him back." He looks up again suddenly bitterly wistful, "After all, isn't this what your corporation is designed for?"
Miss DeWitt turns her head to the side sharply and doesn't speak for a long moment. "I'll have someone bring you the paperwork," she says.
The miniature waterfall burbles blissfuly unaware over the click of her heels as she walks away.
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Infeld was tricky to write... they both were! I had to convince Infeld to come to the morally grey side of town and then I had to get Adelle to lose without really losing... Super glad it all came together, though! :)
Really, really glad the atmosphere part worked too. I was going for very cold, very businesslike, so good to hear that at least some came through. :)
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*giggles* Right?! With both of them using their sharp, proper accents and being dignified throughout the whole messy affair.
Thank you so much for your kind words! Again, like so many other stories unwritten, I have plot bunnies galore, but several other stories that need to be finished first... We shall see! :D
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I enjoyed the battle of wits over tea--very civilized.
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Hee! Thanks! The tea thing seemed to fit both of them perfectly. :)
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This was so good yet painful (in a good way!) thinking of how much Stanton cares about Damien.
More would be fantastic! So good!