Dollhouse: Learning
Title: Learning
Fandom: Dollhouse
Characters/Pairing: Topher
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 655
Prompt: "I haven't failed, I just found another way that doesn't work"
Four months after Topher is hired on as head programmer, they pick up a girl named Elisa Weathers and convince her to sign off on a new experimental procedure instead of the five-year contract.
This is a unique case. The standard benefit volunteers reap from their terms of service is time, occasionally money. Five years over life in prison, five years to let the fallout from their actions fade, five years to avoid responsibility. Or perhaps the funds to start a costly project, or just a desperate attempt to keep a family out of debt. The reasoning was simple, obvious.
Now the Dollhouse is attempting to expand their services, with Topher pioneering the idea.
He’s near giddy with enthusiasm while examining her preliminary brain scans. She’s a complete mess; it’s wonderful. Depression, Bipolar Disorder, a canvas of mental defects to work on.
Topher knows he can fix it all, and in short order the girl is walking away from them happy, healthy, and grateful.
She kills herself three weeks later.
(He’s much more careful with the next one, their first success.)
---
In the aftermath, once things have settled down enough to breathe, DeWitt says, “We have a choice to make here,” but he’s been working long enough to know when her tone means she’s already come to a decision. “We either find a new use for her, or she’s put in the Attic. You know Rossum’s stance on this.”
Topher nods without looking at her. He rubs his palms together and shoots a nervous glance over his shoulder. He’s still on edge because of Alpha, and he’s not sure if that will ever go away. It doesn’t feel like it will. “I know, and I totally get it. It’s just…” he trails off, shakes his head slightly, and looks up. “I’ll do it tomorrow. I still need to fix the chair.”
“Good,” DeWitt says tersely. She watches as Topher rocks back on his heels and turns slowly toward the lab, and her expression softens for an instant. She sighs. “I know Whiskey’s case was one of your pet projects, but this is truly the best we can do for her. There’s no mystical third option.”
Topher looks back. “This wasn’t in her contract,” he says.
“She’ll have a new one.”
---
Sierra spends the next day painting or holding hands with Victor, and Topher spends it hovering around the main floor when he can get away with it and watching her through security feeds when he can’t.
She’s scheduled for an inordinately long period of rest, as long as Topher could manage. He hacked their system and made the changes, and no one’s had the heart to call him on it yet. Her next engagement, weeks from now, is a low risk pro bono.
It had occurred to him suddenly this morning that this sort of thing must have happened before in the other Dollhouses, must be happening this very moment. They serve wealthy clients with dark desires. Clearly some are darker and wealthier than others.
Harding knew.
And he was stupid enough to believe they were helping her all this time.
Sierra cleans her brush and chooses a different color. Her paintings have less black, but she’s favoring red today.
---
When Topher looks out over the destruction, he knows he has to be very careful now. This could be the only chance they get, and they can’t afford to have anything go wrong. He’s the only one who can do this.
He sets down the pack and slowly removes each part, looks it over, and sets it aside. Then he begins to piece it all together, gently sliding everything into place, connecting wires, assembling the vital mechanism. It takes only moments. The hardest work has already been done. With a final click, the machine comes to life with a quiet electronic whirr.
Topher sighs and stands up. He’s finally getting this right.
Fandom: Dollhouse
Characters/Pairing: Topher
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 655
Prompt: "I haven't failed, I just found another way that doesn't work"
Four months after Topher is hired on as head programmer, they pick up a girl named Elisa Weathers and convince her to sign off on a new experimental procedure instead of the five-year contract.
This is a unique case. The standard benefit volunteers reap from their terms of service is time, occasionally money. Five years over life in prison, five years to let the fallout from their actions fade, five years to avoid responsibility. Or perhaps the funds to start a costly project, or just a desperate attempt to keep a family out of debt. The reasoning was simple, obvious.
Now the Dollhouse is attempting to expand their services, with Topher pioneering the idea.
He’s near giddy with enthusiasm while examining her preliminary brain scans. She’s a complete mess; it’s wonderful. Depression, Bipolar Disorder, a canvas of mental defects to work on.
Topher knows he can fix it all, and in short order the girl is walking away from them happy, healthy, and grateful.
She kills herself three weeks later.
(He’s much more careful with the next one, their first success.)
---
In the aftermath, once things have settled down enough to breathe, DeWitt says, “We have a choice to make here,” but he’s been working long enough to know when her tone means she’s already come to a decision. “We either find a new use for her, or she’s put in the Attic. You know Rossum’s stance on this.”
Topher nods without looking at her. He rubs his palms together and shoots a nervous glance over his shoulder. He’s still on edge because of Alpha, and he’s not sure if that will ever go away. It doesn’t feel like it will. “I know, and I totally get it. It’s just…” he trails off, shakes his head slightly, and looks up. “I’ll do it tomorrow. I still need to fix the chair.”
“Good,” DeWitt says tersely. She watches as Topher rocks back on his heels and turns slowly toward the lab, and her expression softens for an instant. She sighs. “I know Whiskey’s case was one of your pet projects, but this is truly the best we can do for her. There’s no mystical third option.”
Topher looks back. “This wasn’t in her contract,” he says.
“She’ll have a new one.”
---
Sierra spends the next day painting or holding hands with Victor, and Topher spends it hovering around the main floor when he can get away with it and watching her through security feeds when he can’t.
She’s scheduled for an inordinately long period of rest, as long as Topher could manage. He hacked their system and made the changes, and no one’s had the heart to call him on it yet. Her next engagement, weeks from now, is a low risk pro bono.
It had occurred to him suddenly this morning that this sort of thing must have happened before in the other Dollhouses, must be happening this very moment. They serve wealthy clients with dark desires. Clearly some are darker and wealthier than others.
Harding knew.
And he was stupid enough to believe they were helping her all this time.
Sierra cleans her brush and chooses a different color. Her paintings have less black, but she’s favoring red today.
---
When Topher looks out over the destruction, he knows he has to be very careful now. This could be the only chance they get, and they can’t afford to have anything go wrong. He’s the only one who can do this.
He sets down the pack and slowly removes each part, looks it over, and sets it aside. Then he begins to piece it all together, gently sliding everything into place, connecting wires, assembling the vital mechanism. It takes only moments. The hardest work has already been done. With a final click, the machine comes to life with a quiet electronic whirr.
Topher sighs and stands up. He’s finally getting this right.