meridian_rose

Two ficlets originally written for whedonland.

Title: A Kiss for Ivy (and a doughnut for Topher)
Fandom: Dollhouse
Pairing/Characters: Topher/Ivy, Dominic
Prompt: For a

whedonlandchallenge: a kiss between 2 characters from the same show who have never kissed onscreen
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 775
Summary: Topher tries to console Ivy with praise and, finally, a kiss. There's a doughnut in it for him too
Warnings: None

Ivy was sitting in the staff canteen, sobbing. Dominic was watching through the window in the door, empty coffee mug in hand. Topher came to peer over his shoulder.

"What's going on? I need a juicebox."

Dominic glared at him. "Ivy is upset," he said.

"And?"

"I don't do upset."

Topher laughed. "You think the dolls are creepy because they have no real emotions and yet you're leery of a weepy female?"

"Think you're so world-weary?"

Topher nodded. "Yes, actually. I have numerous casanovaic exploits to draw upon."

"Then you deal with her."

Topher opened and closed his mouth. He had a horrible feeling he'd been tricked. Determined to make the best of it, he squared his shoulders. "Watch a master at work."

"Make it quick. I need coffee," Dominic said.

Topher swept into the canteen and straight to the refrigerator. He pulled open the door and perused the shelves. Ivy sobbed a little louder, attention seeking. With a sigh, Topher chose an orange juicebox and stood.

"Ivy. You OK?" Topher stabbed the straw into the carton.

Ivy mumbled incoherently. Topher sucked on the juice and waited. When Ivy fell silent, he said, "You're going to have to explain that without the sobbing."

Through her tears she shot him a malicious glance. "Bobby," she said, and took a ragged breath. "We'd been out twice. And he said he wants to break up. That it's not working out. He said…"

Topher came to sit by her. "What did he say?"

"Like you care."

"I like gossip." Topher drew on the straw again. "If you tell me, I'll tell you what I heard about what Boyd was doing in the pool yesterday."

Ivy considered and Topher seized on the moment of interest. "So, Bobby said?"

"That I'm too intellectual! And not pliant enough. And that I kiss like a wet fish!"

Topher nodded and waited a moment, thinking. He put down his juicebox and turned his full attention to Ivy, who was waiting for his response. He began counting off on his fingers.

"First, intellectual? You're not me, but you're pretty damn smart, and if Bobby doesn't like it, screw him. He's a jock, right?" Ivy nodded and Topher continued. "Jocks don't get to judge our smarts. Two, pliant? What are you, bamboo? I doubt he means the programming language given point one. I suppose he means soft, girly, yielding. Like he wants to be the boss all of the time. That's not good. Leaving a jock in charge of a relationship is like leaving Dominic in charge of a fireworks display; it'll be great to watch but over in a matter of moments and you'll be lucky if no-one gets injured in the process."

Ivy tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Go on," she said.

"Three," Topher said, "um, the kissing. Cold fish. Did you ask Bobby how many fish he'd kissed in order to make a viable comparison? 'Cause, I bet the answer is none. No actual fish kissed, let alone cold ones. Unless he's got a fetish for frozen cod or something."

Ivy actually gave a small laugh at that. "I'm not a cold fish."

"Of course not." Topher impulsively leant over. "Maybe, though, I should be sure."

Ivy frowned but before she could protest, Topher had his hands on her shoulders and was kissing her. She struggled for a moment then relaxed. Bobby had been wrong; Ivy could be very pliant, her warm mouth soft and yielding to Topher's demands. He felt his heart beat faster and while he'd closed his eyes, his others senses flew into sharp relief; he could smell her lavender scented shampoo, taste cranberry juice on her tongue, feel the weave of her jersey beneath his fingers and the heat of her body pressed against his as she leant into him.

He pulled away gently and Ivy, stunned, reached for his juicebox and drank a good portion of the remainder of the juice.

"No fish there," Topher said helpfully.

"Thank you," Ivy said, still clutching the carton.

"And let's never speak of this again," Topher suggested.

Ivy nodded and all but ran from the canteen. A moment later Dominic entered and made a beeline for the coffee pot.

"You owe me," Topher said.

"Oh, I don't think so," Dominic said, pouring coffee. "I think you owe me. That's probably the first kiss you've had in ever."

Topher rolled his eyes. "Geek stereotyping. I'm so hurt. At least leave me the last jelly doughnut."

Truth was, it wasn't Topher's first kiss, but it had been one of the nicest in a very long time. And, doughnut: bonus.

Title: Six Moments
Fandom: Dollhouse
Pairing/Characters: Claire/Topher, Adelle
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 964
Prompt: For the

whedonland prompt "Claire/Topher"
Summary: He made her the people she embodies, from Whisky to Claire, but he's still surprised by her actions and his responses to them. From pre-series to during Epitaph One.
Warnings: None

One

"You know," Whiskey said seductively, "I find you very attractive."

Topher grinned inanely and pointed randomly to the other side of the room. "Um, thank you. I just need to…"

He pushed past her, fiddled with the computer equipment. He hoped she would take the hint but instead he heard her draw near, lean over him. He felt her head rest on his shoulder and her breath caress his neck.

When tiny but strong fingers dug playfully into his buttocks he yelped. Adelle would be cross and Dominic would kill him…

Luckily, Whiskey's handler showed up and dragged the hooker persona away from Topher before any real damage could be done.

Two

"You're sad." Whiskey leant on the doorframe, watching Topher lose at Minesweeper. He never usually lost at the game which showed how upset he really was.

"Yeah," he acknowledged. He hadn't told anyone else, not Adelle, not even Ivy, but what was the harm in confiding in an Active who he'd wipe later anyway?

"My mom...my mother died."

Whiskey tipped her head, brown curls cascading down her arm. "That's very sad."

"She never did like me much," Topher offered. He wasn't a doctor like his brother, wasn't adding to overpopulation like his ridiculously fertile sister. He was a disgrace. A genius with more brains than the rest of his family put together and yet because he wasn't doing something "normal" he'd been practically disowned. Okay, he'd walked out, but no-one had tried to contact him until today.

Now his mother was dead and he was wondering how he could face going to the funeral.

Whiskey crossed the room and put her hand on his shoulder.

"I like you," she said, with a wide smile.

It was small comfort, but better than nothing.

Three

Topher's hands were still shaking. Adelle had been calm and reassuring and given him some tea. The caretakers were helping clean up the destruction and scrub away the bloodstains.

Alpha's first victim sat in the chair and Topher was determined to give her a purpose, a strong sense of duty, a healthy dose of self-esteem despite her scars. He gave her the memories of Dr Saunders along with souped-up computer skills because the old guy was nice but a bit behind technology-wise. He gave her some nice high school memories, a fantastic prom, because this wasn't just a temporary assignment. This was her new life, from kindergarten squabbles to her interview with the Rossum Corporation.

Remembering how Whiskey had tried to flirt with him, Topher also decided Claire wouldn't be that fond of him.

Four

"And you, sitting in here, pressing keys, playing God!" Claire's voice carried – someone would hear, Topher knew, and then it would be his fault.

"Woah," Topher interjected as she paused for breath. "You're no innocent here either!"

It was true; Saunders kept the Actives healthy and ready for their morally questionable assignments. It was also a lie; she too was unknowingly just another active playing a part.

She took a step backward. "I care about them," she said. "That's the difference."

"I care," Topher said, adding, with a compulsion to be honest, "a little." He didn't add that she only cared because he'd programmed her that way; in fact, he'd tried to instil professional distance into her and he wondered why that wasn't working out as well as he'd hoped.

Dominic came up behind Claire and glared at Topher. "What is going on here?"

"Difference of opinion," Topher told him.

"He's a jackass," Claire said.

"Yes, he is." Dominic touched Claire's arm and gestured. They left and Topher sighed. If he was really lucky Dominic wouldn't come back and bawl him out some more.

Five

"Who am I? The real me?"

Topher sat down on the step next to Saunders. "Do you really want to know?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. I'm not really Dr Saunders. Whiskey is just a construct. All the other personalities are just roles I've played. I have no clue who I am or why I wanted to give up on that life. You do, though, don't you?"

He did. He and Dewitt and Dominic always knew, the unholy trinity of sacred knowledge. Topher knew that she was broken before she ever came to him, before he made her become the barely sentient active named Whisky.

"I know," he admitted. "And I'm not sure you want to know who you were before."

"Then don't tell me." She turned pleading eyes to him. "Promise you'll never tell me."

He nodded. "I promise."

He wiped her later, re-imprinting her, added a boundary that meant she'd never try and seek out her real self. It was an act of mercy.

Six

"You're needed," Claire said.

DeWitt, cradling Topher, glanced down at the young man sobbing into her blouse.

"It's okay. I'll watch him." Claire knelt down and they manoeuvred Topher from DeWitt's grasp to hers.

DeWitt went to answer the radio transmission. Any communication was vitally important now. The world was in chaos and they had helped make it that way. Topher's spirit had been crushed by this knowledge, that he had become the destroyer of this world.

"I'm sorry," he whimpered.

"I know. I know." Claire held him tightly and kissed his hair. "Not everything you did was so terrible, you know."

She doesn't remember who she was, but she's increasingly sure he did something to fix her. That without the Dollhouse technology she'd be dead or insane. She didn't tell him that she was finding it hard to remember how to be Saunders. That would have been cruel. So she did her best to be Claire, the woman Topher created, and to give him what comfort she could.

They were both a little insane now; but these days sanity was overrated.