Title: Trapped
Author: Robinyj
Pairing/Characters: Paul/Topher, Whiskey
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Slash, little bit of violence
Spoilers: For the finale
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or the dollhouse and profit in no way from my fic.


Topher was coming back from a meeting with DeWitt and Boyd about some new security measures when he heard the sounds of the Wipe Chair activating. He furrowed his brow, Ivy wasn't allowed to imprint actives by herself yet and no one else knew how to work the equipment. Figuring Ivy was running a diagnostic or something after his poor baby took a bullet to her brain a few weeks earlier he burst through the doors to check on her.

"And you are fiddling with my precious …"

He stopped. Ivy was not in the room. In fact, the only person in the room was the one who was slowly being elevated into a sitting position by the chair, feral smile plastered across her face.

"Doctor …" Topher started to say, but they had both known for over a week that she wasn't Saunders. Not originally and definitely not now, not with that smile. She had downloaded one, maybe even more personalities into her mind, and he didn't like the way they were all looking at him. Topher started to back away. "Whiskey."

"Mmmm, yeah, it's good to be back!" Whiskey exclaimed, rising gracefully to her feet to stand nose to nose with Topher. "I bet you missed me too. That doctor chick, she was one boring piece of work. It was time for an upgrade!"

"But … but you said you knew who you were. Why …?" As Topher asked his question he circled back into the room, right hand desperately feeling under the table top for the emergency alarm.

New security measures my ass, he thought to himself.

"I did know who I was. I knew I wasn't finished, not all there. Now I'm complete! And it feels great!" Whiskey shouted, her fist coming down to smash painfully onto Topher's fingers just before they found the emergency button.

"Ah!" he shouted, trying to pull free but she pushed down harder. "No, please, need those, typing and all, very essential."

She smirked and grabbed the front of his shirt to toss him away from the alarm button and onto the floor. He landed on his back with a grunt while she closed the door. He was trapped.

"You weren't trying to call anyone were you? Because I was hoping it would just be the two of us for awhile," Whiskey said smoothly as she knelt down and straddled his hips. She made it seem sexual but he was not turned on in the least.

"Whiskey, would you like a treatment?" he breathed out desperately.

She laughed, cruelly, maniacally and backhanded him across the face, "You really think that's going to work on me? I'm not a little puppet anymore."

"Worth a shot," Topher mumbled, cringing from the blow.

"If you wanted to get your face pounded in, then yeah, I guess it was worth it," Whiskey hissed as she pulled him slightly off the ground by his shirt collar and then slammed his head back down into the ground. He gasped and whimpered in pain to which she made tsk, tsk noises.

"Topher, Topher, Topher, you're like this big kid who gets to play with the best dolls in the world! Not too fun when the dolls play back, is it?" she asked huskily as she leaned down to lick a trail up the side of his face to the bloody cut above his eye. "I want to play a game."

Trying not to hyperventilate Topher attempted to push himself away all the while rambling, "Sure, I love games! I am a games master of sorts. I've got tetris, monopoly, laser tag, there's a football around here somewhere …"

Her hand crushing his jaw stopped his rant.

"Football," she decided. "You're the ball."

That's when he shocked even himself when he actually tried to fight back. Bucking his hips and grabbing her shoulders he tried to push her off him but she was strong and well balanced, and apparently implanted with ninja skills because he never even saw the fist coming that connected with his temple. She stood over him and kicked him in the stomach, eliciting a long moan from him which must have been loud enough to hear through the walls because seconds later the doors burst open to reveal Paul Ballard in all his FBI, hero-to-the-rescue, glory. He took a moment to assess the situation and Topher helped him along by pointing at Whiskey.

"Tazer! Tazer! Now!"

Whiskey tried to lunge at Ballard but he had well-earned ninja skills of his own. He blocked her strike and pressed his tazer into her neck until she slumped unconscious onto the floor.

"Topher …?" Paul questioned as he moved towards the trembling younger man.

Topher was shaking his head as if denying blame, "She … she implanted herself! With, with I don't know, more than one mind. She tried to Alpha, upgrade … not my fault!"

Paul placed a hand on the scientist's arm to calm him down, "Topher, I was asking if you were all right, not what happened."

"Oh, well then I'm great … except for the shaking and the intense fear and the incredible pain, I'm just great, thanks," Topher replied, his stutter of fear dissipating quickly with Ballard here. He laughed mirthlessly, "Of course, now we have no doctor to take care of me though."

Paul laughed affectionately, "I know someone who'll take care of you. Come on."

End.