Mind Games

Slowly her fingers traced over the lines that cut into her face. Different every time, he said. That meant the scars made her unique. In that way Claire was grateful for them. The personality belonged to a deceased doctor and the programming belonged to Topher, but these scars belonged to her. They where what made her Claire Saunders… Whatever that meant.

What did that mean? Who could fathom the mind of a crazy person? The one who made him crazy. Topher made her what she was. But she still hadn't decided what to make of this revelation. Ivy called him the "boy-god of all things neuro" but Claire refused to elevate him to the status of a god.

All Claire knew for certain about Topher was that she hated him. She always disliked him, though at the time it was because of their opposing positions in dealing with the Actives: Claire cared for the person while Topher toyed with the mind. He didn't view them as people but Claire assumed that was a character flaw since he seemed inadequate in dealing with actual people as well. Something the two of them had in common.

It didn't sit well with her that she would have anything in common with him. There was nothing she liked about Topher. His hair was boyish, his rambling was annoying, even his smell… Claire could understand having her disagree with him but to make every aspect of his person offensive to her? Why on earth would he do that?

Claire heard him call her a phantom on a few occasions. He spoke it in jest but now she could truly act the part. Haunt him, for lack of a better phrase. She already learned she could easily hack into his system so it was only one step more to play with his program. She knew enough about him to torment him and watched in the shadows as the events played out.

He was unraveling, unsure of what she would do next. Suddenly the genius wasn't so smart after all. But Topher insisted that he didn't program her to hate him. Her protocol was to disagree, to add a different perspective so the Dollhouse would never miss anything. Hating Topher was an evolution beyond the programming. Not something he intended to happen.

Claire simply assumed on some deep level he wanted it as some sort of masochistic punishment. But he didn't. It almost seemed like it hurt Topher to see her hate him.

The Dollhouse excelled in giving people what they needed. What did Topher need from her?

It was late at night. No engagements were expected to be completed until the following morning. The Dollhouse was quiet, all Actives secure in their pods and sleeping without dreams. She made her way barefoot across the floor and up the stairs. She knew her way there by heart. When she arrived she found him asleep on the floor. She pulled back the sheet without disturbing him and was surprised in his choice in sleepwear. Somehow she was expecting something much less mature than a T-shirt and a pair of boxers.

Claire positioned herself on top of him close enough to feel his breath on her lips. The thought of kissing him made her inwardly cringe but it would be her own choice, not like when she was programmed to kiss Alpha. He didn't have much by way of physique and she doubted he would be a competent lover but that didn't matter. She could give him a "man-reaction" and then maybe he would-

"Ahh!" Topher's eyes snapped open, his body going rigid underneath her. "What… what are you…" He scrambled away as he struggled for words. "What are you doing?" he finally managed.

"What do you think?" she asked patiently. She understood that he was inexperienced but even an idiot would figure it out.

"No. No, no, no, no, no. You can't be-"

"Topher…" She put a soft purr to his name as she rose to her feet. "I was once Number One. I can give you pleasure." She closed in on him and he didn't seem to know how to fend her off.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, his voice weak.

"Don't you want me?" she murmured, fitting her body against his. She placed her hand over his heart and could feel it race. "Don't you think I'm beautiful?"

"Stop!" Topher yelped. He pulled himself together enough to slip away. "This isn't you. You don't want this." He was right about that.

"But do you?" Claire persisted. "Do you want this?"

"No. No, definitely not." She stood there not knowing what to say or do or feel. Then she quietly walked away.

You're ugly. You're disgusting. All you can hope for now is pity. Her own scathing words snapped back at her. It hurt. She didn't expect it to hurt like this. Victor had deeper scars than she yet he was back to being a contributing Active in the Dollhouse. One couldn't even tell he'd ever been damaged.

Yet she was allowed to remain damaged and not even a man as desperately lonely as Topher wanted her. Claire sat in a corner so no one would see her weep.

It hurt so badly and she was scared. She was frightened of so many things. Crowds, noises, open spaces, Alpha… They were all fears that kept her in the Dollhouse. Another part of Topher's programming, no doubt. No, she couldn't always fall to Topher when she saw some unpleasant part of herself. It was just an excuse.

Topher said he programmed her to be everything he wasn't. But he rejected her, so what did that make her? Claire didn't want to go back in the chair and forget the truth about herself. She didn't want the scars to be taken away. She didn't want Claire Saunders to die.

She would never get any understanding through Topher no matter what sort of games she played. She needed to stop using excuses and discover for herself.