Making Dominic into a doll had been a bad, bad idea. Of this, Topher was certain. He knew it wasn't possible, but he was sure Echo and Dom (who had disliked each other before…well, Dominic had disliked Echo even more than he disliked everyone and Echo had taken him out of the equation by outing him as a spy) were bonding.

When not constructing imprints, Topher watched the actives. It was kind of soothing to watch them go about their routines. They were predictable and calm and didn't have enough individual personalities to make him uncomfortable.

Dominic - Oscar, he was Oscar now, and Echo had been exchanging nods and looks since the older man had been wiped. Having noted some flocking behavior between Echo, Sierra and Victor, Topher had been keeping an eye out for similar behaviors among the actives. After several days of wary circling, Oscar had begun joining Echo's little group for meals.

And that was before the whole, Revenge of Alpha craziness.

Really, that was a world changing event, even for the Dollhouse, despite Ms. DeWitt's insistence that the lingering effects were manageable. MANAGEABLE! His job involved carefully scooping out every speck of individual development and replacing it with what basically was a blank slate, then, when called for, putting a whole new person in that brain. It was not something that was best done when things were merely manageable.

But, what could you do?

He chose to find comfort in an increased consumption of carbohydrate laden foods and developed a teeny obsession with watching the Actives for new and non-Active like behaviors.

In going over the security camera footage from the night of Alpha's rampage (Don't even mention the fact that tall and morally judgmental not-Boyd, whom had brought Mr. Crazy back to the house, was now working with them.), Topher had found a few interesting tidbits to consider. Ballard and Alpha had stumbled across Oscar before FrankenFed had tasered Topher. Clearly, they had seen Actives, whom had wandered past in their general docile way.

After noting his Active style clothes, Ballard had given Oscar a smile and passed him without a second thought. Alpha had stared for a moment, then smiled a truly chilling smile. Oscar had passed them, continuing on his way without any reaction.

Or so it seemed until you looked a little more closely at the security footage. Oscar's expression - or lack there of - hadn't changed upon sight of Alpha, but he had reacted in other ways. His shoulders shifted, back straightening and the tendons on the side of his neck flexed. His hands balled into fists that trembled slightly and the muscles of his forearms quivered.

Yeah, there was some weird remnant of Dominic still rattling around inside Oscar.

And Echo…oh, Echo, who, thankfully, didn't go all Kill Bill after Alpha downloaded all those personalities into her at once, had always been a little…off for an Active. She occasionally had ideas and what the hell was up with her putting her hand over his heart?

The Actives were so much easier to deal with when they were less self aware than your average toddler.

Down at the tables, the four troublesome Actives were seated around a table, probably having a stimulating discussion about the merits of oatmeal. Topher shook his head, watching as they ponderously added sliced strawberries to their bowls.

He wondered what it said about him that these were some of the people he thought were plotting something. It was probably a sign that he was paranoid, but he thought it was a completely reasonable response, given the environment they worked in.

"Topher?"

He jumped when a heavy hand fell onto his shoulder, spinning around to face whomever had snuck up on him. When he saw Ballard looming over him, the computer genius scowled. "Don't do that! This is a place of very sensitive work. Startling me could have negative effects on…many, many levels!"

Ballard looked at him, clearly not buying how serious the situation could have been. He peered past Topher, out the window and down at the cluster of Actives. "What's so interesting?"

"Nothing." The reply was quick because no one really wanted to hear his theories about the Actives developing their own, unique personalities. He looked back out in time to see Oscar wrinkle his nose and begin picking strawberries out of his breakfast, lying the fruit on his plate.

Topher's stomach clenched. Not too long after he'd begun working at the Dollhouse, Dominic had been in his office, growling about something or other and Topher had tossed a Fruit Roll up at him, saying, "Chill. It'll be done in five minutes. Have a snack."

Dominic had looked at the foil package and dropped it onto Topher's desk. "I hate strawberry and I don't eat processed sugar."

If anyone could use the happy mood inducing qualities of a massive amount of processed sugar, it was Laurence Dominic, but that was only Topher's opinion. Actually, he wasn't sure he'd ever seen the older man eat, just suck down cups of black coffee…no, he'd seen Dom with a salad once in the break room. It was little more than a plate of lettuce and cucumber, so that barely registered in Topher's mind as food.

But that was besides the point.

There was no way Oscar should have any of Dominic's like or dislikes…

There was something…off. Oscar couldn't quite put his finger on what was bothering him, but he never seemed to feel quite right.

Sure, this place was nice. The caretakers were nice. The other people were nice.

None of that made him feel any less…wrong.

Sometimes it was a stray thought, something bubbling up in his mind that startled him. He had no idea why he knew how to do a mitro-valve replacement. He didn't even know what a mitro-valve was. Identifying a tail and how to ditch one seemed like second nature and he wasn't sure what a batting average was, but he knew his had been .317 his senior year.

Senior year of what?

Then there were the physical things. The hair on the back of his neck always stood on end when someone new entered a room. He had to fight the urge to react every time someone touched him without warning, 'cause he somehow knew putting a caretaker in an arm lock would be frowned upon. Frankly, he wasn't sure what an arm lock was, but it popped to mind whenever one of them laid a hand on his shoulder.

The man who oversaw their Tai Chi sessions was constantly correcting his movements. Too fast, he said, too much force. Unclench your fists. Don't kick high. Don't punch, push. He tried to follow the routines, but his muscles kept rebelling, like they knew some other motion and refused to adapt.

As he moved from one posture to the next, he caught sight of Echo peering into the room. She met his eye and tapped a finger to her right hand. He glanced to the left, seeing that, once again, he had made a fist instead of keeping his palm flat. Releasing a breath, he corrected his pose before the caretaker noticed.

After class he approached Echo, saying a simple, "Thank you."

She nodded slowly. "It's good to help."

"Yes," he agreed, wandering over to the seating area with her.

Glancing up at the walkway, Echo said, "You were different. Before."

"I don't remember." That was true enough. There were no concrete memories, but occasionally he'd have a flash. Usually when the pretty, dark haired woman who wore truly painful looking shoes passed by. Sometime he saw her watching him and he didn't know why. "Except…sometimes…."

He couldn't express exactly what he wanted to say. It was one of those things that seemed to be just beyond his reach. Fortunately, Echo nodded, seeming to understand. "Yes," she murmured. "I don't like…the fog."

Fog. That was fitting. He let his gaze roam around the room without ever stopping on any particular view. "They're watching us."

"They always are."

Oscar met her eyes and gave her a smile. She smiled back. The men watching them, the hyper one who wore bright sweater vests and the tall one that hovered around Echo, both frowned.

Unbeknownst to anyone, the whole scene was watched on a monitor by Adelle DeWitt, who wasn't quite sure what to think of this new development.

TBC…