So, I was watching Briar Rose and, well, you all know of my intense love for Alpha/Whiskey and I just *had* to write this. I hope you like. I certainly had fun writing it. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Dollhouse; I'm just playing with the Dolls.

The Artist and His Masterpiece

He smirks with dark delight as the blade of the scalpel glides through Victor's perfect features. Surprised, the mindless Doll clutches his face and marvels at the pain incurred as he falls away, allowing Alpha to concentrate all of his attention on Whiskey, for the time being, at least.

"Alpha," she whispers in horror and, despite his love for Echo, he can't help but feel a thrill run through his body as she says his name.

His smirk widens – this is going to fun.

He lunges forward, pushing her up against a table. His hand cups her chin roughly, jerking her head back as he inspects her scars, running a finger almost lovingly over them.

"I see, you kept my gifts. Huh?" he asks, but she only gives a fearful whimper in response, so he forces her to nod, "Yes, of course," he answers for her through gritted teeth, "Now, you."

"Yes, of course," she sobs, her voice shaking with fear.

He chuckles bitterly, "They're unique, you know," he comments, trailing an admiring finger along one; her face was his canvas, the scars his paints, "Victor's, for example, well they're much deeper," he relinquishes his hold on her to savagely kick the bleeding Active cowering on the floor – he had once liked Whiskey, he had never liked Victor.

She's backed up against a table and he edges in behind her, the scalpel still in hand. His body is pressed up against hers, but this is nothing new to him and the vast majority of his forty-eight personalities. When he was one of them, a mindless Doll, a blank slate, he had been paired with her in all manner of engagements: romantic, sexual, to the extent that he revelled in being so close to her now.

"Have you always wanted to be a doctor?" he drawls, as he cocks his head inquisitively, "It's a simple question. Answer now."

She swallows, resisting the urge to shiver as his hot breath tickles her neck uncomfortably, "Yes."

Again, he smirks, "That's a lie. Let's try another."

He paces before her now, his eyes never leaving her as she averts her gaze, looking instead at the floor. She's so close. His Imprints are screaming at him to just lean forward and kiss her, like he's done so many times before. Times which she cannot remember, but which stand out so clearly in his mind.

"Tell me about the first time you met me," he orders, the true memory floating to the surface of his incoherent mind as soon as the words spill from his lips.

"You- you were knew," she manages to choke out eventually, still staring at the floor, "you had signed the- the agreement and…" she shakes her head slightly, "you'd just been wiped for the first time and your Handler brought you to me for an exam," she replies, rambling off programmed nonsense and lies.

"And did you examine me? My whole body?" he asks; memories of when, under the influence of Imprints, they'd had wild, passionate sex triggered by his words.

"Yes," she breathes, blinking away fearful tears.

"And was I fine? Healthy? In tact?" he demands, again through gritted teeth as he arches a sharp, questioning eyebrow at her.

"Yes," she whispers.

He takes a step towards her and she's too afraid to take a step away, "This is so interesting," he breathes, appraising her, for she is his masterpiece, "I wish we had more time."

Her eyes fall on him and he relishes the fear in them, "We don't have time?" she asks, her gaze flickering to the scalpel in his hand.

He smirks at her one last time and this one contains an almost lustful edge as he thinks, 'Oh, Whiskey, you have no idea how much I wish we did…' before his thoughts abruptly return to rescuing his princess.

Nothing much to say here, except review! Thanks for reading. :)