Drowning in a Sea of Grey (1/1)
Title: Drowing in a Sea of Grey
Author: nytel
Fandom: Dollhouse
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Up to and including 204 - Belonging
Characters/Pairing: Topher, Victor/Sierra
Word Count: 661
Prompt: Dollhouse, Victor/Sierra, Grey - from i_am_girlfriday
Summary: When he had first started his job, Topher had found this sort of behaviour-the complete innocence of the dolls-to be utterly revolting.
A/N: So I was given this prompt about 4 months ago, but only now did something click for it. It's not even that focused on Victor/Sierra, but I was reading through my old prompt post after seeing Belonging and this is what popped into my mind.
A/N 2: I haven't written in a while, so I'm rusty. This is unbeta'd and I apologize for any mistakes. (If you see any, feel free to point them out.) I may or may not post to some comms later. At the moment I'm not 100% sure how I feel about the quality, but I figured instead of letting it sit on my hard drive I might as well post. :)
Drowning in a Sea of Grey
Ever since the Nolan incident, Topher found himself unable to sleep most nights. No matter how hard he tried he could never seem to make his brain just turn off long enough to succumb to the darkness of much-needed rest. It was ironic really-he knew exactly which neurons in his brain were firing too quickly, and which sections were obviously too active, causing these effects. If any of the dolls ever had this problem it would be a quick programming job, a flick of the switch and then poof, gone. But it didn’t get to work like that for him; there were no shortcuts. He may not know how he was supposed to live with what had happened, but he didn’t have the choice of forgetting.
Now Topher spent his days streamlining coffee in between imprints and trying not to crack under the stress of what he’d done. Boyd was no help, the man was entirely too unshaken by the events. Whenever they spoke Boyd never gave even the slightest indication that he remembered that day at all. There were a few times when the head of security’s ultra-calm demeanour had made Topher wonder if he was making the whole thing up somehow. Though of course that thought was too absurd to hold any weight. Topher knew he was a lot of things, but he was fairly certain crazy wasn’t on the list, at least not yet. No, all of it had happened, it was real.
As he thought about this, Topher couldn’t help but glance towards the actives, looking for her. The seat at his desk impeded his view so he rose to his feet, but not before he picked up his mug and downed the remaining coffee in a single gulp. He forgot that he’d only poured it a few minutes ago and the temperature remained at half way to scalding-he swore when the hot liquid coursed over his tongue and down his throat. A few drops escaped the corner of his mouth and fell onto his shirt. Too exhausted to utter another curse he glanced down at his front to see the damage, only to realize they weren’t the only stains there. In fact, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d changed his clothes.
Ignoring his own haggard state, Topher walked towards the large windows and scanned the area below. It didn’t take him long to spot Sierra, who had been Priya before coming to them. Not surprisingly, she was sitting next to Victor on one of the couches. Both were cross-legged, knees touching, and there was a book spread out between them. Every few seconds one of them would say something and point at a picture. The other would smile and respond in turn. Then once they’d covered all the pictures on the page, Victor would flip to the next and they would start over again.
When he had first started his job, Topher had found this sort of behaviour-the complete innocence of the dolls-to be utterly revolting. Now he was envious. Not only did Sierra not have any memories of the horrible events she’d partaken in, but in her world everything was black and white, grey didn’t even exist. Take for example her relationship with Victor. She loved him, and he loved her back. To them that was the end of the story. Nothing, absolutely nothing else mattered.
At one point Topher had seen things with that clarity. It was or it wasn’t; the end. But somewhere in the past year he’d lost that. There were no distinct answers any more; he was drowning in a sea of grey. He didn’t know what about that knowledge was more terrifying: that he therefore might not have the answer any more, or the implication that up until now he’d been living his life like a doll and not as the person he really was.
The End
Author: nytel
Fandom: Dollhouse
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Up to and including 204 - Belonging
Characters/Pairing: Topher, Victor/Sierra
Word Count: 661
Prompt: Dollhouse, Victor/Sierra, Grey - from i_am_girlfriday
Summary: When he had first started his job, Topher had found this sort of behaviour-the complete innocence of the dolls-to be utterly revolting.
A/N: So I was given this prompt about 4 months ago, but only now did something click for it. It's not even that focused on Victor/Sierra, but I was reading through my old prompt post after seeing Belonging and this is what popped into my mind.
A/N 2: I haven't written in a while, so I'm rusty. This is unbeta'd and I apologize for any mistakes. (If you see any, feel free to point them out.) I may or may not post to some comms later. At the moment I'm not 100% sure how I feel about the quality, but I figured instead of letting it sit on my hard drive I might as well post. :)
Drowning in a Sea of Grey
Ever since the Nolan incident, Topher found himself unable to sleep most nights. No matter how hard he tried he could never seem to make his brain just turn off long enough to succumb to the darkness of much-needed rest. It was ironic really-he knew exactly which neurons in his brain were firing too quickly, and which sections were obviously too active, causing these effects. If any of the dolls ever had this problem it would be a quick programming job, a flick of the switch and then poof, gone. But it didn’t get to work like that for him; there were no shortcuts. He may not know how he was supposed to live with what had happened, but he didn’t have the choice of forgetting.
Now Topher spent his days streamlining coffee in between imprints and trying not to crack under the stress of what he’d done. Boyd was no help, the man was entirely too unshaken by the events. Whenever they spoke Boyd never gave even the slightest indication that he remembered that day at all. There were a few times when the head of security’s ultra-calm demeanour had made Topher wonder if he was making the whole thing up somehow. Though of course that thought was too absurd to hold any weight. Topher knew he was a lot of things, but he was fairly certain crazy wasn’t on the list, at least not yet. No, all of it had happened, it was real.
As he thought about this, Topher couldn’t help but glance towards the actives, looking for her. The seat at his desk impeded his view so he rose to his feet, but not before he picked up his mug and downed the remaining coffee in a single gulp. He forgot that he’d only poured it a few minutes ago and the temperature remained at half way to scalding-he swore when the hot liquid coursed over his tongue and down his throat. A few drops escaped the corner of his mouth and fell onto his shirt. Too exhausted to utter another curse he glanced down at his front to see the damage, only to realize they weren’t the only stains there. In fact, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d changed his clothes.
Ignoring his own haggard state, Topher walked towards the large windows and scanned the area below. It didn’t take him long to spot Sierra, who had been Priya before coming to them. Not surprisingly, she was sitting next to Victor on one of the couches. Both were cross-legged, knees touching, and there was a book spread out between them. Every few seconds one of them would say something and point at a picture. The other would smile and respond in turn. Then once they’d covered all the pictures on the page, Victor would flip to the next and they would start over again.
When he had first started his job, Topher had found this sort of behaviour-the complete innocence of the dolls-to be utterly revolting. Now he was envious. Not only did Sierra not have any memories of the horrible events she’d partaken in, but in her world everything was black and white, grey didn’t even exist. Take for example her relationship with Victor. She loved him, and he loved her back. To them that was the end of the story. Nothing, absolutely nothing else mattered.
At one point Topher had seen things with that clarity. It was or it wasn’t; the end. But somewhere in the past year he’d lost that. There were no distinct answers any more; he was drowning in a sea of grey. He didn’t know what about that knowledge was more terrifying: that he therefore might not have the answer any more, or the implication that up until now he’d been living his life like a doll and not as the person he really was.
The End