Title: Taken Away
Author: Jennifer Campbell
Fandom: Dollhouse
Spoilers: "The Attic"
Summary: Ballard confronts Topher after finding something missing within himself.
Disclaimer: "Dollhouse" and its characters don't belong to me.
Notes: For the next couple of weeks, you can consider this to be a prediction. After that, an alternative storyline. Or maybe I'll be right on what was taken from Ballard, you never know.
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Boyd: "At some point, he's going to figure out what we took away from him."
Topher: "I know."
"The Attic"
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Two days after his resurrection, Paul Ballard slammed through the door into Topher's office. Topher looked up from the monitors beside the chair, which was currently occupied by Kilo in a naughty schoolgirl outfit, and he made a face at his unwelcome visitor.
"Does your imprint not remember how to knock?" Topher asked as he punched a button and Kilo writhed in the chair.
"What did you do to me?" Paul growled.
Topher gave a nervous chuckle and tugged at his sweater. "As you can see, I'm kind of busy right now, but if you want to come back later –"
"Not later. Now." He got in Topher's face, and the smaller man backed away until he bumped into a desk and could go no farther. "What did you do to me?"
Topher chuckled again in a jumpy manner confirming to Paul that his suspicions were not unfounded, but before Topher could answer, a small voice behind them said, "Did I fall asleep?"
They both turned, and Topher said, "Uh, yeah, for a little while."
"May I go now?" Kilo asked.
"If you like."
Kilo walked out in her short skirt and pigtails, oblivious to both whom she was a moment before and the confrontation she was leaving behind. Paul watched her with sick feeling in his stomach. Was he like that now, too? Could Topher or Boyd or Adelle ask him if he wanted a treatment, and he would follow them like a puppy dog into the chair? It was what he feared the most. If he, like Echo, had been sent to the Attic, he had no doubt he would have spent the rest of his life in an endless loop of wipe and imprint.
"Do you think maybe you could back off a little, giant man?" Topher said as he tried to squeeze out from where he was wedged between Paul and the desk. "Maybe we could get a beer and sit on the couch like civilized people while you tell me what I allegedly did, hmm?"
Paul nodded, some of the fight gone out of him with the morose thoughts about his condition, and he sunk into the couch with head in his hands. Topher handed him a beer, and he emptied half the bottle.
"Whoa, slow down there," Topher said.
He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Afraid I'll mess up your reconstruction work?"
"Not at all, but I just had the couch cleaned and I'd prefer to avoid any upchuck, if you know what I mean." Topher took a drink from his own beer and said, "Now, why don't you tell me why you came barging in here like a grizzly bear on steroids."
Paul took a deep breath and another fortifying swallow. "A few minutes ago, Echo and I were taking a walk around the house and talking, just talking, when she got this look in her eyes and took my hand and pulled me into a corner, away from the security cameras. Then she …"
His voice trailed off as he relived the moment. Echo leaned in close, her body pressed against his, the natural scent of her skin that always used to drive him crazy. She tilted her lips toward his. They kissed, and then …
He shook his head in disbelief. "I didn't feel anything for her. Nothing. She might as well have been kissing a rock."
"I see," Topher said carefully.
"That wasn't the case before Alpha attacked me, so you obviously did something when you turned me into a doll." He gave Topher his best glare. "What did you do?"
Topher licked his lips. "Before I answer that, there's something you need to understand about what Alpha did and what I was dealing with when I brought you back. Not only did he wipe clean your memories, and everything else, he also damaged your motor cortex beyond repair."
"My what?"
"Your motor cortex." At Paul's blank expression, he explained. "It's the part of your brain that controls your movements."
"But I move just fine. How can that part of my brain be damaged beyond repair?"
Topher grinned and waved his arms enthusiastically. "That's the ingenious part. I programmed another part of your brain to think it was the motor cortex."
Paul caught on. "And to do that, you would have to replace something that was already in my brain. Am I right?"
"I knew you weren't as dumb as everyone says."
Paul let that pass. "You erased my feelings for Echo?"
"Eh, more than that. Just your feelings for Echo wouldn't have been enough space. So I …"
"Spit it out, Topher."
"I removed your capacity to feel love."
With that, Topher shrunk back as though he expected Paul to fly at him in a rage, and it was only Paul's years of FBI-instilled discipline that held him back. Still, he surged to his feet, hands balled into fists.
"You made it so I can't love anyone ever again? Why on earth would you do that?"
"Calm down," Topher said. "I did you a favor. You should be thanking me."
"Thanking you? Are you crazy?"
He could not conceive of any way Topher could think that messing with his basic emotions was a good thing. But this was Topher, for whom empathy was an unknown quality and who viewed people as subjects for his experiments rather than human beings. Maybe he did it simply to see whether he could.
Topher looked affronted. "You're a doll now, Paul, and you're in the Dollhouse. Do you know what that means? When DeWitt told me to fix you, she also said, almost in the same breath, that we needed a new Victor."
"No," Paul said. "I did not sign up for that."
"That's why I did what I did. About 50 to 75 percent of our actives' engagements involve some kind of romantic element."
"I see," Paul said, regaining some composure. "A doll who can't feel love is useless to send out on engagements."
"Exactly. By taking that away, I ensured that DeWitt will have no use for you other than as yourself. Nothing else I could have erased would have had the same impact."
"Does DeWitt know what you did?"
"No, and I'd prefer to keep it that way unless she tries to put you in the chair."
Paul fell back onto the couch, not sure what to think about this new information. Topher had apparently saved him from his worst nightmare, but at the same time, what he had felt for Echo was quite often the only thing that kept him going. It was a heavy price to pay for his life.
And Echo. He dreaded explaining this to her. He might not be capable of loving her anymore, but he still cared for her as a friend and respected her extraordinary abilities. Now the most difficult adjustment would be hers, to try to fall out of love with a man she worked with every day.
"I have to go," he muttered. "I have to find Echo."
"Yeah, I know," Topher said.
Paul finished off his beer and made his way toward the door, much more slowly than how he came in.
"Hey, Paul."
He turned back.
"The brain has a remarkable ability to heal itself. Maybe yours will develop new neural connections and give you back what you've lost."
"I hope so."
"If it does happen, make sure you keep it to yourself."
Paul shut the office door behind him and stood at the railing, looking down at the actives going about their daily activities. It seemed a lifetime ago that he first beheld this view, after breaking into the Dollhouse with Alpha. Now that same man had ensured that Paul would never, truly leave.
Echo stood at the base of the stairs, smiled and waved, but under the smile she looked worried. Not surprising, how quickly Paul had bolted from her after their kiss.
She deserved so much more than he could give her now. But he would stay with her; he would have her back if she asked him to, and he knew she would do the same for him. Maybe that would be enough.
He headed down the stairs, toward her.
"Echo," he said. "We need to talk."
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