Genderswap Fic: "Exit Stage Left"
Still not fic day, yet here I am with this insanity. Knowing my luck on actual fic day I won't even have anything. Sigh.
I'm...really sorry about this, you guys. But I figured once I'd written it I might as well post it for the lols. And, oh yeah - the whole thing is dollsome's fault. I so very much blame her.
Title: Exit Stage Left
Genre: Genderswap, Crack, AUish
Characters: Topher, lady!Dominic, DeWitt, Claire, Boyd, Ivy, implied DeWitt/Dominic
Rating: PG-13 for language, comical violence, and Topher's POV, which is twelve
Length: 4,644 words
Spoilers: Set in S1 sometime after 1x07, "Echoes"; some vaaague references to canon all the way up through S2
Clive Ambrose shows up in DeWitt’s office on a Tuesday, a few weeks after that incident with Freemont College and the experimental Rossum drug that no one around here is going to be forgetting about anytime soon, but everyone is very adamantly pretending to have anyway.
It’s the first thing Topher thinks of when Ambrose shows him the carefully-sealed package containing a single vial of something that is a really sick-looking green color.
It’s from the same drug “family”, Ambrose explains (which causes Topher to momentarily ponder the notion of such a family, like with Uncle Methamphetamine constantly borrowing money and Aunt Downer hiding in her bedroom claiming nobody understands her and Cousin Haloperidol having a massive freak-out every Christmas). The R&D department at Rossum has been working with the same series of chemicals, coming up with various permutations and trying to figure out what they can be used for.
Since Topher was so helpful with uncovering the decomposition rate of the other drug, Ambrose wonders if he wouldn’t like to take a look at this one too.
The “wonders” is phrased as a really friendly request, but all Topher has to do is steal a sideways glance at the look of restrained annoyance on DeWitt’s face to know it definitely isn’t.
Cool by him, though, because he’ll never pass up on a chance to play around with exciting new chemicals. Especially if he’s getting time and a half.
“Oh, and a mild word of caution,” Ambrose says. “This one may have biological side effects. I wouldn’t let it come into contact with your skin.”
Topher imagines he looks the part of the sci-fi mad scientist, in his lab space wearing protective eyewear and dark blue rubber gloves. The thought makes him grin a little. He considers trying for an evil laugh because, okay, that is corny, but it seems a shame to let such a perfect opportunity slip by.
Evil Laugh Attempt Number One doesn’t sound nearly as cool as he thought it would, so he starts clearing his throat to try again.
But before he can make Attempt Number Two, the door is shoved open and Dominic walks in. It’s more than a little annoying, Topher has noted many a time, how he can make even a basic action like walking look angry.
“What’s going on in here? We’ve got an engagement backlog, and you’re taking time out to play with your chemistry set?”
Dominic wasn’t here this morning, so Topher realizes he must not have heard about the “special request” from Rossum. Clearly the best way to defuse this situation is to very reasonably explain it to him.
“Hey Dom, just because you never got that Red Ryder bee-bee gun you so desperately wanted for Christmas, doesn’t mean you have to go around insulting all the other kids’ toys.”
Okay, so maybe that wasn’t actually all that reasonable.
Dominic jabs a finger at him. “You’ve got ten seconds to tell me what it is you think you’re doing. Actually, no, never mind; I don’t care. Put down the test tube, and get back to-”
“Okay. First of all, you? Not the boss of me. I don’t know why you keep trying to act like you are. And second of all, I will have you know, what I am actually doing, is in fact, very important and…oh, that’s not good.”
For as he was talking, Topher was also gesticulating while holding a pipette, and his finger may just have slipped accidentally, and the entire contents of the pipette may just have wound up on Dominic’s pointing hand.
Topher stares down at the miniature chemical spill. “Yeah, that’s almost probably, definitely not good.”
Dominic looks at the liquid smeared on him with disgust. “What the hell is this?”
“Um. Remember that experimental Rossum drug with the fun, yet not so fun, hallucinatory side effects? Remember…how it was spread through skin to skin contact?”
There’s a beat of dead air, during which Dominic wrenches his gaze away to stare at him, and Topher meaningfully holds up his hands to indicate the fact that he’s wearing gloves.
Dominic chokes on what sounds like a big mouthful of disbelieving rage.
“Did you just drug me?”
“Not on purpose?” Topher offers.
He quickly takes a step back at the ensuing expression on Dominic.
“You miserable little lab rat, what the hell were you thinking-”
“Whoa, okay, calm down! It’s not the same drug as from that time, okay? It’s just a…distant chemical relation. A pharmacological second-cousin, if you will.”
“So what does this one do?”
“Uh, well. Actually, I haven’t the slightest idea.”
Dominic does that thing where he draws a breath as his eyes get wider, like he’s puffing up on his own anger, and Topher takes advantage of what may be his last moments alive to mourn that there’s nothing large and stable to hide behind in this room.
But Dominic stops, grimacing with visible pain, pressing a hand to his side.
“Uh…you okay?”
“No. No, I am not okay, I…oh god, I don’t feel so good.”
It turns out Dominic has a gift for the subtle understatement, because the next thing he does is drop to the floor and start convulsing.
Topher swears a lot, and calls for Dr. Saunders.
“What happened?” she demands, as she wrestles with his arms: there’s a lot of Dominic and he’s twitching pretty violently, so it takes both of them to even try holding him down.
“I don’t know, it was an accident, I just, oh, this is bad.” Topher looks down and sees some of that white foamy stuff coming from the corner of Dominic’s mouth. “Oh man, this is so, so bad.”
“Hold onto his legs tighter, Topher-”
“I’ve killed DeWitt’s favorite goon! She’s going to eviscerate me. She’s gonna have my neurons deep-fried like county fair onion rings! This is so bad, this is very, very bad.”
Dominic stops convulsing, and he’s still breathing, so Topher can stop panicking a little. But he looks really pale and he’s sweating. Saunders gets up and goes to get her kit.
Topher is left alone, watching Dominic, which means there’s no one for him to turn to in order to check if he might be going a pretty impressive level of crazy when Dominic starts to…morph right before his very eyes.
He scrambles to his feet, watching with a hypnotized and horrified fascination.
Oh, this is so very bad.
Eventually, Dominic regains consciousness and starts getting up.
Or no, scratch that: eventually, a blond-haired, blue-eyed woman of similar height and sort of similar build and wearing the exact same suit, regains consciousness and starts getting up.
Topher would like for Saunders to get back very soon, because this is the sort of thing he feels he really shouldn’t have to be left alone with. It’s just not fair to his sanity.
The woman makes a face, wiping her mouth as she clears her throat and manages to speak. “What happened?”
“Uhhh…” is Topher’s incredibly articulate and well-thought out response. Because, yeah, what did just happen? A rift in the time-space continuum during which their stony-faced head of security got sucked up and this lady with suspiciously similar taste in neckties and pinstripes got spit out in his place? Because the only alternative…
“Dom…inic?” He may be whimpering a little. He feels like his brain is whimpering, so hey, that’s only fair.
“Yeah. What? I asked you a question.” The woman gives a very familiar frown. “What’s wrong with my voice?”
“Oh - your voice is the thing you’re noticing? Really?” Topher exclaims with some hysterical laughter, because sweet Gene Roddenberry, this is actually happening. Keeping distance he circles her a little, and as he does she keeps rotating to face him, so they’re kind of circling each other, equally staring. “I mean, really? Out of all of the-”
Topher makes a vague flailing gesture to indicate the entire package. Because, for starters, she’s got to be at least a C-cup, and he can’t help feeling like if it was him, he would’ve probably picked up on that, like, right away.
“What are you talking about?” she says. But then she gets a weird look on her face.
A distinctly unnerved, wide-eyed, ‘Wait, what is this that I’m feeling?’ sort of look. Topher holds his breath because he just remembered, oh right, this is so very bad.
“Okay. Um.” Topher holds up both pointer fingers as he attempts to speak in his best reasonable, soothing voice. “Whatever you do, don’t, I mean do not, look down.”
She looks down at herself.
The little part of Topher’s brain that never completely stopped wanting to be a film director imagines the hypothetical camera just then cutting away to a wide shot of the outside of the building, the only sound heard the very loud combination scream and yell that Dominic makes.
Maybe some birds fly away, for dramatic effect.
“What…what in the…” she stammers, eyes getting wider and wider. She has this freaked-out look of revulsion, like if it were possible to grab her own body and throw it far away from her, she totally would. “Wha…how…what’s…”
She grabs a fistful of her hair, twisting it in her fingers and staring like she doesn’t know what it is.
And okay, Topher has two serious problems with that: first, it’s the hair she’s flipping out over having too much of, for real? Because does it really make him that immature that he keeps coming back to the marvelous breasts?
And second, how does she even have long hair now? That doesn’t remotely approach the realm of making sense. Somewhere, the Law of Conservation of Matter has locked itself in its room, crying, asking what it ever did to the rest of the universe to deserve being treated this way.
Physics are going to have to wait for the moment, though, because Dominic seems to be having some kind of gender-bend induced meltdown.
“No. No. This isn’t…this is not real, this is not happening.” She untangles her fingers from her hair, shaking both hand and head violently, until it looks like she’s shaking all over. “I, I…this can not be happening.”
Topher finds himself feeling the distinctly strange urge to offer her ice cream or some kind of comfort, because as very weird as it is, lady-Dominic is mentally registering as the kind of woman he’d see somewhere and go, ‘I wonder if she knows anything about videogames?’ And that’s in a currently very ill-fitting suit.
He even gets so far as starting to reach toward her, until she seems to snap back and refocus into herself - and then she looks back up at him.
Oh, he’d recognize that homicidal rage anywhere.
“You. This is your fault! What did you do to me?” The words are ground out very slowly, like even saying that much is hard to do outside of her bloodlust, and Topher thinks he may be in serious trouble.
“It was an accident!” He backs up, arms outstretched. “It wouldn’t have even happened if you hadn’t…okay, let’s just calm down here, no need to do anything we’d regret.”
“I’ll kill you!”
“Like that! See, murder is regrettable!”
His next words are cut off by his shriek as the apparent reincarnation of Lizzie Borden starts chasing him around the lab. Topher knows you’re not supposed to hit girls, but he never heard anything about throwing chairs at them, which is what he’s forced to do when she almost backs him into a corner.
Dominic ducks, and it smashes through a window, making a big mess of glass.
“What in god’s name is going on in here?”
DeWitt strides into the room, followed closely by Boyd, who’s warily drawing his gun. No doubt they were drawn by the screams. “Topher. What is the meaning of this?”
“I…um.” Lacking a verbal explanation, and still slightly winded, he points at Dominic.
Both DeWitt and Boyd eye her with obvious confusion.
“Who are you?” Boyd demands in his best there-should-be-no-strangers-in-this-very-secure-building voice.
Dominic gets a strangely wounded look, like not being recognized is actually a little hurtful, even in a disheveled suit and with face partially hidden by longer untamed hair.
DeWitt however, takes a step closer, looking on with careful scrutiny and a slowly dawning light of disbelief.
Topher honestly isn’t all that surprised, because he never really got what it is with those two. Or, maybe she just recognizes the outfit.
DeWitt’s mouth twitches, like she can’t possibly believe what she’s about to say. “Mr. Dominic?”
The individual in question inhales, attempting to both draw herself up and shrink down at the same time. “Ma’am,” she mumbles, having some difficulty with eye contact.
There is a long silence as everyone in the room just stares at each other.
Boyd’s gun arm lowers, his eyes prominently wide. “Whoa,” he comments at length.
Yeah, Topher thinks that about sums it up.
“Topher,” DeWitt begins very, very slowly, “what did you do?”
“Why does everyone always assume it’s my fault?” DeWitt just gives him that look, and Dominic looks like she may try tackling him again, presence of two viable human shields be damned, so he gulps and quickly continues. “It’s not like I meant for this to happen, okay? Or even knew that it would!”
“What did happen?” DeWitt stresses, in her ‘Everything around me may just be entirely insane, but by god, I will maintain a sense of order’ voice.
“It was that drug! The one Ambrose gave me and told me to play around with. I mean - run a highly organized series of experiments on. I was working with it, and everything was going just fine, I had everything under control until she…he…” he flounders momentarily, indicating Dominic, “shim barged in. And then, well, whoops.”
Dominic snarls, enraged, “You dumped chemicals on me!”
“Spilled. I spilled something, it’s not like I threw it at you.”
“What difference does it make?” She spreads her jacket open by the lapels. “Look at me! You think this is a joke?”
It may not be, but Topher can probably think of a few punchlines that she really wouldn’t appreciate.
“A drug did that to him? A drug?” Boyd demands, apparently waging protest on the behalf of normal expected reality. “How? How is that even possible?”
Topher throws up his hands. “That would sort of be the question at this moment, wouldn’t it?”
“Alright, now, let’s everyone just calm down.” DeWitt’s eyes shut for an instant as she refocuses. “You can find a way to reverse this, can’t you?”
“Uh…” Oh wow, no pressure there. He decides to aim for hopeful. “Well, the other drug just wore off on its own, right? So maybe this one will too.”
“Maybe?” Dominic shouts. “That’s the best you can come up with, ‘maybe’?”
“I’m trying to look on the positive side! I would like to point out, considering we had no idea what this stuff even did, it could’ve been a lot worse.”
“How?”
Topher states what he feels is the obvious: “It could’ve spilled on me.”
He has severe doubts that he’d make a good woman. He’d probably end up with cankles.
He doesn’t get a chance to say as much though, when Dominic makes a violent lunge for him and Boyd is forced to intervene and restrain her. Thrashing around in the handler’s grasp, Dominic makes some unintelligible sounds of rage best transcribed as “!!!”
Topher moves to put a few pieces of furniture between them. DeWitt exhales, and looks like she’s slowly counting to ten.
*
A few planned engagements have been shuffled around to create a lighter load Ivy might actually be able to handle on her own, Topher having severe orders to make the Mystery Of The Magically-Produced X Chromosome his main - in fact, only - priority for now.
Saunders has been recruited to add whatever aid she can, which is primarily delegated to collecting medical samples and data.
Dominic has been temporarily convinced that wringing with her bare hands the neck of the one person attempting to fix her “issue” is probably poor long-term planning, so for now, it seems like they’ve got just about everything under control.
Never mind the fact they’ve found themselves in a world where ‘that time one of us became a chick because of unplanned, somewhat vague science’ is a situation they would even need to have control of.
There’s an unspoken but very strongly felt understanding that if anyone actually stops to comment on the weirdness, the world’s axis may only tilt even further, so everyone is valiantly trying to approach this as if it’s just another problem that needs solving.
Which, it is. Just a really, really bizarre and improbable one.
Topher has returned to examining the chemical map of the drug, in hopes it may produce some answers. All he’s gotten so far is that it looks like its half-life is nowhere near that of the other one, which makes it very unlikely it’s just gonna wear off.
He…may be keeping that information to himself for now, not letting Dominic in on it.
He cites this decision as a prevention of crushed hopes, and also crushed windpipes.
“Bad news, I’m afraid.” DeWitt enters, looking sour. “Still no luck in reaching Mr. Ambrose. It seems we’ve happened to coincide with his annual holiday retreat.”
“Well, it could only help to learn maybe anything that any of the other researchers know about this crazy juice,” Topher states, frustrated. “So that’s pretty darn annoying.”
“I’m well aware, Topher. We’ll keep trying, but I’m not about to promise anything. A perk of certain levels of power is the ability to make oneself rather successfully untraceable whenever one wants to be.”
Topher lets out a puff of air. “Do you think these Rossum guys had any idea that something like this could happen when they handed the drug over?”
“I have a pretty strong hunch they probably didn’t,” Boyd says rather darkly.
DeWitt folds her arms. “Disproportionate balance of responsibilities notwithstanding, we can’t spend that much time just standing around on this,” she decides. “Topher will continue looking for a solution, of course, but this House has to get back to normal routine.”
“Mmf mmmfle mmmmf!” Dominic cuts in, alarmed.
“Please don’t talk with the thermometer in your mouth, Mr. Dominic,” Saunders says.
Dr. Saunders has decided that regardless of what happened next, any person who had convulsions needs a very thorough looking-after. Her dedication to her job as a medical professional really is remarkable. It’s times like these Topher feels like giving himself a pat on the back for awesome programming, until he thinks too hard and starts getting a little freaked out by it.
Dominic spits out the thermometer with impatient distaste.
“Wait, so I’m just supposed to act like nothing’s gone wrong?” she protests. “Are you kidding? I can’t work like this!”
“Oh?” DeWitt’s tone turns so icy Topher almost checks his own fingers for frostbite. “Is there something about your current status that has rendered you incapable of performing otherwise expected duties?”
Dominic sputters, indicating herself. She almost laughs with incredulity. “Well, I…”
“I’m sorry,” DeWitt continues, just as coolly if not more so, “I wasn’t aware that occupying one sex over the other constituted a physical handicap.”
Topher believes there are no words for that one but: oh, snap.
Dominic seems to realize she may have just stepped into this one pretty deep. She gulps a little as she stares at their boss, color draining. “…Uh.”
DeWitt spares a single, brief withering glare, before turning and leaving without another word. Topher has to give her one thing - lady knows how to make an exit.
Ivy is in the middle of wiping Uniform of her latest imprint, so Topher takes a break to go supervise. Ivy may not appreciate it but, hey, he’s doing her a favor in the long run.
“Did I fall asleep?” Uniform asks.
“For a little while.”
“Ivy, please,” Topher interrupts. “With a bit more conviction!”
“Don’t you have something else you’re supposed to be doing?”
“Oh, no one’s gonna get hurt if I take a fifteen minute break. Or thirty. Or forty-five. Confidentially, Ivy, I gotta say, once you get past the initial weirdness, there are certain perks to having Dominic this way. As in, perky. I mean if nothing else, this version is a whole lot nicer to look at - and she’s totally standing right behind me, isn’t she?”
“You sick twisted little bastard,” Dominic growls.
“Okay, now, we’ve talked about this, remember?” Topher preemptively shields himself with his hands. “You gut me, you put a serious wrench in the path to getting yourself back to manly-ville.”
“Right, but see, I’ve gotta weigh that against the intense satisfaction I’d get out of causing you pain. Especially considering you’re apparently not even doing anything.”
“I may have misspoke! Ivy, where are you going? Don’t leave me alone with her!”
“I am so not involved in this.”
“Traitor! How can you just turn your back on a friend…well, acquaintance…of a technically superior workplace position…in need!”
But by this point Dominic has evidently managed to distract herself. She’s looking at the freshly-wiped Uniform with a narrow, acutely examining stare.
Uniform is still in the outfit from her engagement (Topher keeps forgetting, they have got to establish a protocol for that, because half the time the Dolls are changed already and half the time they aren’t, and that’s just plain weird) - a light charcoal pantsuit, nicely tailored, and a pair of professional shoes with the just the slightest bit of heel.
Dominic eyes her head to toe, seeming to decide something.
“Give me your clothes,” she orders.
“Okay!” Uniform says cheerily. She starts unbuttoning her shirt.
“Um, hey, could we wait a second here?” Topher protests.
Because if this is where they’re going, couldn’t he get at least five minutes to make popcorn first?
*
Adelle is in her office, contemplating if it’s too early yet to help herself to just a spot of brandy.
Because there are some bad days that are meant for exercising self control - and then there are others, well, that seem nothing more than excuses to let oneself come apart a little.
She cannot help but feel as if today is becoming so utterly absurd as to be begging to be made into one of the second variety.
There’s the sound of her door opening, and Adelle glances up impatiently.
“Yes?” she begins, and then trails off.
Dominic pulls the door shut behind her, approaching with her usual purposeful strides.
She’s somehow managed to find a suit tailored almost perfectly to the fit of her different body - but Adelle muses she should probably know by now never to underestimate Mr. Dominic’s resourcefulness. Her long blond hair is pulled back in a tight, somewhat severe ponytail; all in all, she looks professional, put-together as she always does.
“Not interrupting anything, am I?”
“No.” Adelle crosses her legs, leaning back in her chair and raising one eyebrow as its own pointed remark. “Not at the moment.”
Dominic stops a short distance away and stands at attention with hands behind her back. She spares the floor the briefest of glances before she begins speaking.
“Ma’am, I just wanted to apologize for what I said earlier. I certainly didn’t mean to imply anything; I only-”
“No, I rather expected you didn’t,” Adelle cuts in, somewhat dryly. “I knew you were only speaking without thinking of the broader sense of your words. Still, it’s the sort of thing best kept an eye out for, isn’t it?”
Dominic nods. “You were right, though. Awkwardness notwithstanding, there’s no reason at all why I can’t keep doing my job like this. And that’s exactly what I plan to do.”
“I’d almost have thought you’d prefer to keep your eye over Topher’s shoulder while he’s still working out a solution.”
Dominic tries - and notably fails - to repress a grimace. “Right now, I think if I let myself be around Topher unsupervised, it can only end with you being down a programmer.”
Adelle allows herself the faintest of smirks.
“It makes more sense to try and keep my mind off…the problem.” She gazes at Adelle evenly. “It’s not as if there aren’t plenty of things around here that need doing.”
“I would offer the supposition I wouldn’t have hired you if there weren’t.” Adelle stands, taking steps closer so their shoulders are parallel. She gives her head of security’s current state a thorough onceover.
It would be as much a waste of time to list out what is the same as what is different. Most specifically, she notes Dominic isn’t quite as tall as she is usually - with Adelle in heels and her in flats, they stand at exactly the same height.
Well, it will do. Initial oddity aside, Adelle can think of no reason why it shouldn’t.
After all, it seems very clear to her that Dominic is the same person, regardless of whatever current state he - or she - is in.
“Well then, Mr. Dominic,” Adelle says. “I do believe we have our usual rounds to attend to.”
She bows her head slightly in acknowledgement. “After you, ma’am.” She waits for Adelle to begin heading toward the elevator and then follows, always one step behind.
Once inside the elevator however, after the doors shut and the car begins moving, something different comes over Dominic’s face as they stand in the enclosed space.
“Ma’am?” There’s a note of trepidation in her voice.
Adelle turns her head. “Yes, Mr. Dominic?”
“This is only going to be temporary,” she states. “Right?”
For the most part, she sounds as reserved and in control as Adelle is used to hearing, and no doubt others would suppose her only that.
But Adelle hears the distinct hopeful, almost pleading undercurrent buried in there. Something small, not unlike panic. Something she has heard in the voices of those that wind up being their Actives many a time - the sound of someone going “Please, tell me this is somehow going to be okay.”
It gives Adelle serious pause. Not only because it’s somewhat alarming to sense such uncertainty in Dominic, but because of something else it implies.
Sometimes she wonders how it is the two of them have managed to function in such a way for so long, maintaining this solid, professional distance in spite of what is undeniably lingering between them.
But then, she knows exactly how: because each of them is unwavering. Perfectly composed, never allowing for even one moment of weakness, no matter how great at times the temptation.
Only now, one of them is feeling vulnerable. That changes things, in a way that could eventually be dangerous.
Adelle meets her companion’s eyes. “I’m certain we will do everything we can to fix this,” she promises.
It is, significantly, not a guarantee. She doesn’t want to be a liar. She owes Dominic far more respect than that.
Dominic draws a breath that is somewhere close to a sigh. “Right.”
Adelle looks straight ahead again; from the corner of her eye, she sees Dominic do the same.
Hopefully one way or another, the situation will rectify itself. If not, adjustments will simply have to be made.
As for whatever difficulties Dominic is having, the greater odds are she will catch herself before she falls, drawing her resolve up again, and leaving the balance in their relationship unthreatened.
But, if she doesn’t…
Well. They’ll cross that bridge if they come to it. No sooner.
The elevator doors slide open. Adelle steps out briskly, moving forward.
Beside her, she hears the sound of footsteps as Dominic struggles at first with her altered stride length and then successfully matches her, the two of them moving in perfect time.
I'm...really sorry about this, you guys. But I figured once I'd written it I might as well post it for the lols. And, oh yeah - the whole thing is dollsome's fault. I so very much blame her.
Title: Exit Stage Left
Genre: Genderswap, Crack, AUish
Characters: Topher, lady!Dominic, DeWitt, Claire, Boyd, Ivy, implied DeWitt/Dominic
Rating: PG-13 for language, comical violence, and Topher's POV, which is twelve
Length: 4,644 words
Spoilers: Set in S1 sometime after 1x07, "Echoes"; some vaaague references to canon all the way up through S2
Clive Ambrose shows up in DeWitt’s office on a Tuesday, a few weeks after that incident with Freemont College and the experimental Rossum drug that no one around here is going to be forgetting about anytime soon, but everyone is very adamantly pretending to have anyway.
It’s the first thing Topher thinks of when Ambrose shows him the carefully-sealed package containing a single vial of something that is a really sick-looking green color.
It’s from the same drug “family”, Ambrose explains (which causes Topher to momentarily ponder the notion of such a family, like with Uncle Methamphetamine constantly borrowing money and Aunt Downer hiding in her bedroom claiming nobody understands her and Cousin Haloperidol having a massive freak-out every Christmas). The R&D department at Rossum has been working with the same series of chemicals, coming up with various permutations and trying to figure out what they can be used for.
Since Topher was so helpful with uncovering the decomposition rate of the other drug, Ambrose wonders if he wouldn’t like to take a look at this one too.
The “wonders” is phrased as a really friendly request, but all Topher has to do is steal a sideways glance at the look of restrained annoyance on DeWitt’s face to know it definitely isn’t.
Cool by him, though, because he’ll never pass up on a chance to play around with exciting new chemicals. Especially if he’s getting time and a half.
“Oh, and a mild word of caution,” Ambrose says. “This one may have biological side effects. I wouldn’t let it come into contact with your skin.”
Topher imagines he looks the part of the sci-fi mad scientist, in his lab space wearing protective eyewear and dark blue rubber gloves. The thought makes him grin a little. He considers trying for an evil laugh because, okay, that is corny, but it seems a shame to let such a perfect opportunity slip by.
Evil Laugh Attempt Number One doesn’t sound nearly as cool as he thought it would, so he starts clearing his throat to try again.
But before he can make Attempt Number Two, the door is shoved open and Dominic walks in. It’s more than a little annoying, Topher has noted many a time, how he can make even a basic action like walking look angry.
“What’s going on in here? We’ve got an engagement backlog, and you’re taking time out to play with your chemistry set?”
Dominic wasn’t here this morning, so Topher realizes he must not have heard about the “special request” from Rossum. Clearly the best way to defuse this situation is to very reasonably explain it to him.
“Hey Dom, just because you never got that Red Ryder bee-bee gun you so desperately wanted for Christmas, doesn’t mean you have to go around insulting all the other kids’ toys.”
Okay, so maybe that wasn’t actually all that reasonable.
Dominic jabs a finger at him. “You’ve got ten seconds to tell me what it is you think you’re doing. Actually, no, never mind; I don’t care. Put down the test tube, and get back to-”
“Okay. First of all, you? Not the boss of me. I don’t know why you keep trying to act like you are. And second of all, I will have you know, what I am actually doing, is in fact, very important and…oh, that’s not good.”
For as he was talking, Topher was also gesticulating while holding a pipette, and his finger may just have slipped accidentally, and the entire contents of the pipette may just have wound up on Dominic’s pointing hand.
Topher stares down at the miniature chemical spill. “Yeah, that’s almost probably, definitely not good.”
Dominic looks at the liquid smeared on him with disgust. “What the hell is this?”
“Um. Remember that experimental Rossum drug with the fun, yet not so fun, hallucinatory side effects? Remember…how it was spread through skin to skin contact?”
There’s a beat of dead air, during which Dominic wrenches his gaze away to stare at him, and Topher meaningfully holds up his hands to indicate the fact that he’s wearing gloves.
Dominic chokes on what sounds like a big mouthful of disbelieving rage.
“Did you just drug me?”
“Not on purpose?” Topher offers.
He quickly takes a step back at the ensuing expression on Dominic.
“You miserable little lab rat, what the hell were you thinking-”
“Whoa, okay, calm down! It’s not the same drug as from that time, okay? It’s just a…distant chemical relation. A pharmacological second-cousin, if you will.”
“So what does this one do?”
“Uh, well. Actually, I haven’t the slightest idea.”
Dominic does that thing where he draws a breath as his eyes get wider, like he’s puffing up on his own anger, and Topher takes advantage of what may be his last moments alive to mourn that there’s nothing large and stable to hide behind in this room.
But Dominic stops, grimacing with visible pain, pressing a hand to his side.
“Uh…you okay?”
“No. No, I am not okay, I…oh god, I don’t feel so good.”
It turns out Dominic has a gift for the subtle understatement, because the next thing he does is drop to the floor and start convulsing.
Topher swears a lot, and calls for Dr. Saunders.
“What happened?” she demands, as she wrestles with his arms: there’s a lot of Dominic and he’s twitching pretty violently, so it takes both of them to even try holding him down.
“I don’t know, it was an accident, I just, oh, this is bad.” Topher looks down and sees some of that white foamy stuff coming from the corner of Dominic’s mouth. “Oh man, this is so, so bad.”
“Hold onto his legs tighter, Topher-”
“I’ve killed DeWitt’s favorite goon! She’s going to eviscerate me. She’s gonna have my neurons deep-fried like county fair onion rings! This is so bad, this is very, very bad.”
Dominic stops convulsing, and he’s still breathing, so Topher can stop panicking a little. But he looks really pale and he’s sweating. Saunders gets up and goes to get her kit.
Topher is left alone, watching Dominic, which means there’s no one for him to turn to in order to check if he might be going a pretty impressive level of crazy when Dominic starts to…morph right before his very eyes.
He scrambles to his feet, watching with a hypnotized and horrified fascination.
Oh, this is so very bad.
Eventually, Dominic regains consciousness and starts getting up.
Or no, scratch that: eventually, a blond-haired, blue-eyed woman of similar height and sort of similar build and wearing the exact same suit, regains consciousness and starts getting up.
Topher would like for Saunders to get back very soon, because this is the sort of thing he feels he really shouldn’t have to be left alone with. It’s just not fair to his sanity.
The woman makes a face, wiping her mouth as she clears her throat and manages to speak. “What happened?”
“Uhhh…” is Topher’s incredibly articulate and well-thought out response. Because, yeah, what did just happen? A rift in the time-space continuum during which their stony-faced head of security got sucked up and this lady with suspiciously similar taste in neckties and pinstripes got spit out in his place? Because the only alternative…
“Dom…inic?” He may be whimpering a little. He feels like his brain is whimpering, so hey, that’s only fair.
“Yeah. What? I asked you a question.” The woman gives a very familiar frown. “What’s wrong with my voice?”
“Oh - your voice is the thing you’re noticing? Really?” Topher exclaims with some hysterical laughter, because sweet Gene Roddenberry, this is actually happening. Keeping distance he circles her a little, and as he does she keeps rotating to face him, so they’re kind of circling each other, equally staring. “I mean, really? Out of all of the-”
Topher makes a vague flailing gesture to indicate the entire package. Because, for starters, she’s got to be at least a C-cup, and he can’t help feeling like if it was him, he would’ve probably picked up on that, like, right away.
“What are you talking about?” she says. But then she gets a weird look on her face.
A distinctly unnerved, wide-eyed, ‘Wait, what is this that I’m feeling?’ sort of look. Topher holds his breath because he just remembered, oh right, this is so very bad.
“Okay. Um.” Topher holds up both pointer fingers as he attempts to speak in his best reasonable, soothing voice. “Whatever you do, don’t, I mean do not, look down.”
She looks down at herself.
The little part of Topher’s brain that never completely stopped wanting to be a film director imagines the hypothetical camera just then cutting away to a wide shot of the outside of the building, the only sound heard the very loud combination scream and yell that Dominic makes.
Maybe some birds fly away, for dramatic effect.
“What…what in the…” she stammers, eyes getting wider and wider. She has this freaked-out look of revulsion, like if it were possible to grab her own body and throw it far away from her, she totally would. “Wha…how…what’s…”
She grabs a fistful of her hair, twisting it in her fingers and staring like she doesn’t know what it is.
And okay, Topher has two serious problems with that: first, it’s the hair she’s flipping out over having too much of, for real? Because does it really make him that immature that he keeps coming back to the marvelous breasts?
And second, how does she even have long hair now? That doesn’t remotely approach the realm of making sense. Somewhere, the Law of Conservation of Matter has locked itself in its room, crying, asking what it ever did to the rest of the universe to deserve being treated this way.
Physics are going to have to wait for the moment, though, because Dominic seems to be having some kind of gender-bend induced meltdown.
“No. No. This isn’t…this is not real, this is not happening.” She untangles her fingers from her hair, shaking both hand and head violently, until it looks like she’s shaking all over. “I, I…this can not be happening.”
Topher finds himself feeling the distinctly strange urge to offer her ice cream or some kind of comfort, because as very weird as it is, lady-Dominic is mentally registering as the kind of woman he’d see somewhere and go, ‘I wonder if she knows anything about videogames?’ And that’s in a currently very ill-fitting suit.
He even gets so far as starting to reach toward her, until she seems to snap back and refocus into herself - and then she looks back up at him.
Oh, he’d recognize that homicidal rage anywhere.
“You. This is your fault! What did you do to me?” The words are ground out very slowly, like even saying that much is hard to do outside of her bloodlust, and Topher thinks he may be in serious trouble.
“It was an accident!” He backs up, arms outstretched. “It wouldn’t have even happened if you hadn’t…okay, let’s just calm down here, no need to do anything we’d regret.”
“I’ll kill you!”
“Like that! See, murder is regrettable!”
His next words are cut off by his shriek as the apparent reincarnation of Lizzie Borden starts chasing him around the lab. Topher knows you’re not supposed to hit girls, but he never heard anything about throwing chairs at them, which is what he’s forced to do when she almost backs him into a corner.
Dominic ducks, and it smashes through a window, making a big mess of glass.
“What in god’s name is going on in here?”
DeWitt strides into the room, followed closely by Boyd, who’s warily drawing his gun. No doubt they were drawn by the screams. “Topher. What is the meaning of this?”
“I…um.” Lacking a verbal explanation, and still slightly winded, he points at Dominic.
Both DeWitt and Boyd eye her with obvious confusion.
“Who are you?” Boyd demands in his best there-should-be-no-strangers-in-this-very-secure-building voice.
Dominic gets a strangely wounded look, like not being recognized is actually a little hurtful, even in a disheveled suit and with face partially hidden by longer untamed hair.
DeWitt however, takes a step closer, looking on with careful scrutiny and a slowly dawning light of disbelief.
Topher honestly isn’t all that surprised, because he never really got what it is with those two. Or, maybe she just recognizes the outfit.
DeWitt’s mouth twitches, like she can’t possibly believe what she’s about to say. “Mr. Dominic?”
The individual in question inhales, attempting to both draw herself up and shrink down at the same time. “Ma’am,” she mumbles, having some difficulty with eye contact.
There is a long silence as everyone in the room just stares at each other.
Boyd’s gun arm lowers, his eyes prominently wide. “Whoa,” he comments at length.
Yeah, Topher thinks that about sums it up.
“Topher,” DeWitt begins very, very slowly, “what did you do?”
“Why does everyone always assume it’s my fault?” DeWitt just gives him that look, and Dominic looks like she may try tackling him again, presence of two viable human shields be damned, so he gulps and quickly continues. “It’s not like I meant for this to happen, okay? Or even knew that it would!”
“What did happen?” DeWitt stresses, in her ‘Everything around me may just be entirely insane, but by god, I will maintain a sense of order’ voice.
“It was that drug! The one Ambrose gave me and told me to play around with. I mean - run a highly organized series of experiments on. I was working with it, and everything was going just fine, I had everything under control until she…he…” he flounders momentarily, indicating Dominic, “shim barged in. And then, well, whoops.”
Dominic snarls, enraged, “You dumped chemicals on me!”
“Spilled. I spilled something, it’s not like I threw it at you.”
“What difference does it make?” She spreads her jacket open by the lapels. “Look at me! You think this is a joke?”
It may not be, but Topher can probably think of a few punchlines that she really wouldn’t appreciate.
“A drug did that to him? A drug?” Boyd demands, apparently waging protest on the behalf of normal expected reality. “How? How is that even possible?”
Topher throws up his hands. “That would sort of be the question at this moment, wouldn’t it?”
“Alright, now, let’s everyone just calm down.” DeWitt’s eyes shut for an instant as she refocuses. “You can find a way to reverse this, can’t you?”
“Uh…” Oh wow, no pressure there. He decides to aim for hopeful. “Well, the other drug just wore off on its own, right? So maybe this one will too.”
“Maybe?” Dominic shouts. “That’s the best you can come up with, ‘maybe’?”
“I’m trying to look on the positive side! I would like to point out, considering we had no idea what this stuff even did, it could’ve been a lot worse.”
“How?”
Topher states what he feels is the obvious: “It could’ve spilled on me.”
He has severe doubts that he’d make a good woman. He’d probably end up with cankles.
He doesn’t get a chance to say as much though, when Dominic makes a violent lunge for him and Boyd is forced to intervene and restrain her. Thrashing around in the handler’s grasp, Dominic makes some unintelligible sounds of rage best transcribed as “!!!”
Topher moves to put a few pieces of furniture between them. DeWitt exhales, and looks like she’s slowly counting to ten.
*
A few planned engagements have been shuffled around to create a lighter load Ivy might actually be able to handle on her own, Topher having severe orders to make the Mystery Of The Magically-Produced X Chromosome his main - in fact, only - priority for now.
Saunders has been recruited to add whatever aid she can, which is primarily delegated to collecting medical samples and data.
Dominic has been temporarily convinced that wringing with her bare hands the neck of the one person attempting to fix her “issue” is probably poor long-term planning, so for now, it seems like they’ve got just about everything under control.
Never mind the fact they’ve found themselves in a world where ‘that time one of us became a chick because of unplanned, somewhat vague science’ is a situation they would even need to have control of.
There’s an unspoken but very strongly felt understanding that if anyone actually stops to comment on the weirdness, the world’s axis may only tilt even further, so everyone is valiantly trying to approach this as if it’s just another problem that needs solving.
Which, it is. Just a really, really bizarre and improbable one.
Topher has returned to examining the chemical map of the drug, in hopes it may produce some answers. All he’s gotten so far is that it looks like its half-life is nowhere near that of the other one, which makes it very unlikely it’s just gonna wear off.
He…may be keeping that information to himself for now, not letting Dominic in on it.
He cites this decision as a prevention of crushed hopes, and also crushed windpipes.
“Bad news, I’m afraid.” DeWitt enters, looking sour. “Still no luck in reaching Mr. Ambrose. It seems we’ve happened to coincide with his annual holiday retreat.”
“Well, it could only help to learn maybe anything that any of the other researchers know about this crazy juice,” Topher states, frustrated. “So that’s pretty darn annoying.”
“I’m well aware, Topher. We’ll keep trying, but I’m not about to promise anything. A perk of certain levels of power is the ability to make oneself rather successfully untraceable whenever one wants to be.”
Topher lets out a puff of air. “Do you think these Rossum guys had any idea that something like this could happen when they handed the drug over?”
“I have a pretty strong hunch they probably didn’t,” Boyd says rather darkly.
DeWitt folds her arms. “Disproportionate balance of responsibilities notwithstanding, we can’t spend that much time just standing around on this,” she decides. “Topher will continue looking for a solution, of course, but this House has to get back to normal routine.”
“Mmf mmmfle mmmmf!” Dominic cuts in, alarmed.
“Please don’t talk with the thermometer in your mouth, Mr. Dominic,” Saunders says.
Dr. Saunders has decided that regardless of what happened next, any person who had convulsions needs a very thorough looking-after. Her dedication to her job as a medical professional really is remarkable. It’s times like these Topher feels like giving himself a pat on the back for awesome programming, until he thinks too hard and starts getting a little freaked out by it.
Dominic spits out the thermometer with impatient distaste.
“Wait, so I’m just supposed to act like nothing’s gone wrong?” she protests. “Are you kidding? I can’t work like this!”
“Oh?” DeWitt’s tone turns so icy Topher almost checks his own fingers for frostbite. “Is there something about your current status that has rendered you incapable of performing otherwise expected duties?”
Dominic sputters, indicating herself. She almost laughs with incredulity. “Well, I…”
“I’m sorry,” DeWitt continues, just as coolly if not more so, “I wasn’t aware that occupying one sex over the other constituted a physical handicap.”
Topher believes there are no words for that one but: oh, snap.
Dominic seems to realize she may have just stepped into this one pretty deep. She gulps a little as she stares at their boss, color draining. “…Uh.”
DeWitt spares a single, brief withering glare, before turning and leaving without another word. Topher has to give her one thing - lady knows how to make an exit.
Ivy is in the middle of wiping Uniform of her latest imprint, so Topher takes a break to go supervise. Ivy may not appreciate it but, hey, he’s doing her a favor in the long run.
“Did I fall asleep?” Uniform asks.
“For a little while.”
“Ivy, please,” Topher interrupts. “With a bit more conviction!”
“Don’t you have something else you’re supposed to be doing?”
“Oh, no one’s gonna get hurt if I take a fifteen minute break. Or thirty. Or forty-five. Confidentially, Ivy, I gotta say, once you get past the initial weirdness, there are certain perks to having Dominic this way. As in, perky. I mean if nothing else, this version is a whole lot nicer to look at - and she’s totally standing right behind me, isn’t she?”
“You sick twisted little bastard,” Dominic growls.
“Okay, now, we’ve talked about this, remember?” Topher preemptively shields himself with his hands. “You gut me, you put a serious wrench in the path to getting yourself back to manly-ville.”
“Right, but see, I’ve gotta weigh that against the intense satisfaction I’d get out of causing you pain. Especially considering you’re apparently not even doing anything.”
“I may have misspoke! Ivy, where are you going? Don’t leave me alone with her!”
“I am so not involved in this.”
“Traitor! How can you just turn your back on a friend…well, acquaintance…of a technically superior workplace position…in need!”
But by this point Dominic has evidently managed to distract herself. She’s looking at the freshly-wiped Uniform with a narrow, acutely examining stare.
Uniform is still in the outfit from her engagement (Topher keeps forgetting, they have got to establish a protocol for that, because half the time the Dolls are changed already and half the time they aren’t, and that’s just plain weird) - a light charcoal pantsuit, nicely tailored, and a pair of professional shoes with the just the slightest bit of heel.
Dominic eyes her head to toe, seeming to decide something.
“Give me your clothes,” she orders.
“Okay!” Uniform says cheerily. She starts unbuttoning her shirt.
“Um, hey, could we wait a second here?” Topher protests.
Because if this is where they’re going, couldn’t he get at least five minutes to make popcorn first?
*
Adelle is in her office, contemplating if it’s too early yet to help herself to just a spot of brandy.
Because there are some bad days that are meant for exercising self control - and then there are others, well, that seem nothing more than excuses to let oneself come apart a little.
She cannot help but feel as if today is becoming so utterly absurd as to be begging to be made into one of the second variety.
There’s the sound of her door opening, and Adelle glances up impatiently.
“Yes?” she begins, and then trails off.
Dominic pulls the door shut behind her, approaching with her usual purposeful strides.
She’s somehow managed to find a suit tailored almost perfectly to the fit of her different body - but Adelle muses she should probably know by now never to underestimate Mr. Dominic’s resourcefulness. Her long blond hair is pulled back in a tight, somewhat severe ponytail; all in all, she looks professional, put-together as she always does.
“Not interrupting anything, am I?”
“No.” Adelle crosses her legs, leaning back in her chair and raising one eyebrow as its own pointed remark. “Not at the moment.”
Dominic stops a short distance away and stands at attention with hands behind her back. She spares the floor the briefest of glances before she begins speaking.
“Ma’am, I just wanted to apologize for what I said earlier. I certainly didn’t mean to imply anything; I only-”
“No, I rather expected you didn’t,” Adelle cuts in, somewhat dryly. “I knew you were only speaking without thinking of the broader sense of your words. Still, it’s the sort of thing best kept an eye out for, isn’t it?”
Dominic nods. “You were right, though. Awkwardness notwithstanding, there’s no reason at all why I can’t keep doing my job like this. And that’s exactly what I plan to do.”
“I’d almost have thought you’d prefer to keep your eye over Topher’s shoulder while he’s still working out a solution.”
Dominic tries - and notably fails - to repress a grimace. “Right now, I think if I let myself be around Topher unsupervised, it can only end with you being down a programmer.”
Adelle allows herself the faintest of smirks.
“It makes more sense to try and keep my mind off…the problem.” She gazes at Adelle evenly. “It’s not as if there aren’t plenty of things around here that need doing.”
“I would offer the supposition I wouldn’t have hired you if there weren’t.” Adelle stands, taking steps closer so their shoulders are parallel. She gives her head of security’s current state a thorough onceover.
It would be as much a waste of time to list out what is the same as what is different. Most specifically, she notes Dominic isn’t quite as tall as she is usually - with Adelle in heels and her in flats, they stand at exactly the same height.
Well, it will do. Initial oddity aside, Adelle can think of no reason why it shouldn’t.
After all, it seems very clear to her that Dominic is the same person, regardless of whatever current state he - or she - is in.
“Well then, Mr. Dominic,” Adelle says. “I do believe we have our usual rounds to attend to.”
She bows her head slightly in acknowledgement. “After you, ma’am.” She waits for Adelle to begin heading toward the elevator and then follows, always one step behind.
Once inside the elevator however, after the doors shut and the car begins moving, something different comes over Dominic’s face as they stand in the enclosed space.
“Ma’am?” There’s a note of trepidation in her voice.
Adelle turns her head. “Yes, Mr. Dominic?”
“This is only going to be temporary,” she states. “Right?”
For the most part, she sounds as reserved and in control as Adelle is used to hearing, and no doubt others would suppose her only that.
But Adelle hears the distinct hopeful, almost pleading undercurrent buried in there. Something small, not unlike panic. Something she has heard in the voices of those that wind up being their Actives many a time - the sound of someone going “Please, tell me this is somehow going to be okay.”
It gives Adelle serious pause. Not only because it’s somewhat alarming to sense such uncertainty in Dominic, but because of something else it implies.
Sometimes she wonders how it is the two of them have managed to function in such a way for so long, maintaining this solid, professional distance in spite of what is undeniably lingering between them.
But then, she knows exactly how: because each of them is unwavering. Perfectly composed, never allowing for even one moment of weakness, no matter how great at times the temptation.
Only now, one of them is feeling vulnerable. That changes things, in a way that could eventually be dangerous.
Adelle meets her companion’s eyes. “I’m certain we will do everything we can to fix this,” she promises.
It is, significantly, not a guarantee. She doesn’t want to be a liar. She owes Dominic far more respect than that.
Dominic draws a breath that is somewhere close to a sigh. “Right.”
Adelle looks straight ahead again; from the corner of her eye, she sees Dominic do the same.
Hopefully one way or another, the situation will rectify itself. If not, adjustments will simply have to be made.
As for whatever difficulties Dominic is having, the greater odds are she will catch herself before she falls, drawing her resolve up again, and leaving the balance in their relationship unthreatened.
But, if she doesn’t…
Well. They’ll cross that bridge if they come to it. No sooner.
The elevator doors slide open. Adelle steps out briskly, moving forward.
Beside her, she hears the sound of footsteps as Dominic struggles at first with her altered stride length and then successfully matches her, the two of them moving in perfect time.