Author's Notes: Well, it looks like having other stories I should be writing is a really good motivation to write more on this one. So have another chapter, this time with extra plot! We're starting where Four Tophers left off, so this will be the first chapter with actual Topher/Bennett interaction. If you have opinions on how I handled that, I'd love to hear them.

In other news, this fic can now also be found on my tumblr account, helenofeddis. The link is on my profile. Happy reading!

UPDATE: This used to be chapter four, now it's chapter six. Please go to chapter eight, "Healed Wrong," for an explanation if you want one.

"How," Topher's breath catches and he takes another breath before starting again. "How long?"

"About five months," Bennett says quietly. She snaps out of her reverie, then, and lifts her hand from his unusually neat hair. Reaching her good arm across him, she quickly straps the restraints around his arms before he's aware enough to try to escape. Once that's taken care of, she adjusts the imprinting chair so that he's sitting and able to face her.

She pulls a chair next to him and says, "I've missed you."

Topher says nothing. Hardly a minute ago, it seems, this room was full of people: three handlers escorting him to the chair, Lipman directing them, Harding watching from the corner with a reptilian smile, and Bennett herself, talking calmly as she prepared her workspace to install the active architecture in his brain.

"Of course," she said, speaking to both him and Harding as though recording another lecture, "We have the technology that could wipe the brain without architecture, but it creates a more stable environment for imprints for the wiring to be present."

Now it's just the two of them in the room, and it's five months later. Topher notices that he's wearing different clothes, a doll's plain t-shirt and sweatpants.

"What's happened? Has anything changed?" he asks, biting back an inquiry after Adelle. Better that DC doesn't know that the two of them were close.

At that, Bennett loses her soft smile. "You know I can't tell you that, Topher."

"Of course. When you're in the Matrix, you don't want to remember what's outside," he says with a bitter grin.

"I've done the best I could with limited resources and without compromising my house to the LA branch. Of course, I understand that you're upset but at least we're together."

"We're not together, you've been with-whoever's been rooming in my skull."

She answers excitedly, "But that's what's wonderful. It's still you, Topher, just a different you. Look here." She rises and goes to the cabinet in the wall where she keeps the frequently used imprints. She pulls two wedges from it and returns to Topher, holding one in front of him. "This is Topher Brandon. He works with me in the lab. Just as genius as you. And this," she holds up the other, "is Christopher Pliskin." Topher quirks an eyebrow, and Bennett giggles. "I thought you'd like that. He goes by Chris, in case LA gets intel that I have a boyfriend. We can keep them from getting pictures, so you wouldn't be recognized, but we can't be too careful." Topher does his best to keep from showing how precious that tidbit is-that LA is still a concern, that Rossum doesn't rule the world quite yet. "Both of them are based on your scan, just like Senator Perrin. I only changed a few things, a few memories. Occasionally a moral reservation."

"You said you made him better. Did you make me better?"

"No. I couldn't. But I did all right." Bennett smiles shyly, and he's distracted by the perfect little teeth that peek out when she does so. "We celebrated my birthday last month," she says. "Chris and I did, at my apartment. It was the best birthday I've ever had."

It sounds almost logical when she explains it, and who is he to talk of insanity? He laughs, and his voice breaks. "At least we're together," he echoes.

"Exactly. I love you, Topher." Topher's breath catches; he knew that, he supposed, ever since their kiss in LA, but that conversation was interrupted by Whiskey's attempt on Bennett's life. Although it was unsuccessful, they were too dedicated to recreating Caroline's wedge to continue after that. Then Rossum's troops arrived, spiriting Bennett back to DC before they could speak to each other. Bennett stands, saying, "Surrounded by uncertainty, the human brain tends to gravitate towards that which it knows without doubt. It's a survival mechanism."

She braces her right hand against the back of his chair and leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth. Her lips are as delicate as he remembered, her eyes as beautiful when they flutter closed. The chain on her glasses knocks against his cheek. She's right, he thinks, as he begins to kiss her back, first softly and then faster, mouthing his own "I love you"s, because his mind is already rationalizing this. If he has no hope of returning to LA without rescue, why not enjoy being in the company of one of the few brains that surpasses his, the only woman-the only person, period-who Topher can't read like an open book? She's the Catwoman to his Batman, and so very close to perfect.

With his mind no longer his own, it's the one thing he knows without doubt: that he's in love with her.

Suddenly he hears Priya's voice, choked with tears. "I love him," she had said. "Is that real?" He had confirmed that it was, hating himself for having tried so hard to destroy that spark in Sierra and Victor.

Does every one of his imprints love Bennett? Are they another love story for the ages, that survives however abused the mind?

But it isn't just Nolan's blood under his fingernails now. It's the whole world's. The entire Earth is becoming a slasher film and children's hour by turns; they did that, he and Bennett. Their legacy would be Judgment Day and the rise of the Terminators.

His mind, already held together by nothing more than twine, breaks all over again.

Bennett knows something is wrong. She's stopped kissing him, and pulls back to look him in the eye. He doesn't look back; he's hung his head, tears running down his face. "I didn't mean to," he whispers. "I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to-I didn't think it was real, I just wanted to know, I didn't mean it-"

"Topher!" Bennett says, putting a hand to his forehead as though she thinks he's sick. She runs to her computer screen and checks the wedge again, to make sure it isn't something wrong with his programming.

"That's all I wanted, I just wanted to know, and now the whole world's forgetting. I know now, I suppose, maybe that makes it worth it. Knowledge for peace. Only traded with a lizard instead of a snake," he laughs a little at his own joke. "I know what I know, Boyd. I know what I know, I know what I know-"

Bennett looks back at him, eyes wide with panic. "Mental breakdown," she assures herself. "I can't be the prompt. It's something bigger." She turns back to the screen. "Topher, everything's going to be ok, you're just glitching. Don't worry, this has happened before and it was nothing more than a shock. Your brain's just a little delicate right now." She hopes her words are getting through to him. This is far more painful than when it was Topher Brandon stuck in his own mind, repeating phrases and stammering-Brink is a real person, her real person, and seeing that whatever broke before is still there is troubling as well as heartbreaking.

There's no way to fix this other than to wipe his brain and scan it again, looking for the weakness. Quickly she bends the chair back to its prone position. Bennett puts her hand on his cheek again, mirroring her earlier action, wishing she could say goodbye to a coherent Topher. But he calms down at the caress, and looks up at her with wide blue eyes.

"Don't worry," she says, kissing him once more. "I'll find a way to fix this."