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jesterladyficTitle: I Pray We Were Better Strangers
by Jesterlady
Rating: PG
Pairing: None
Summary: Topher's at the grocery store and sees Ballard
A/N: This was inspired by a comment Fran Kranz made at a panel where he said he wished we could see something totally random like Topher's just out grocery shopping and looks up and who should be there but Ballard? I thought it was a good idea. LA's not that big, right?
Disclaimer: I don't own Dollhouse. The title is from a play by William Shakespeare
I Pray We Were Better Strangers
Topher didn't leave the Dollhouse very often. Why would he need to with so many things of entertainment around, five star cuisine available from the kitchen, and Ivy to run out and get those little unhealthy things that are so necessary in life? He had a bed in the back, though he did much prefer his one at home. What else was there? The Dollhouse was his world, a flawed, sometimes violent one, but a world where he could be himself and a genius and not have to worry about the consequences.
Occasionally he wondered about what would happen if it was ever found out, if
the urban myth was ever proved true, if society ever got off its ass and did
something about the horrors it so eloquently denounced but never fought against. He
didn't worry often. That was a job for Dominic or DeWitt or unknown Rossum suits.
He just played with his toys and listened with open ears to secrets he wasn't meant
to know. Like Alpha worries or an FBI agent poking his nose where it didn't belong,
and Dolls glitching with increasing rapidity.
But sometimes Topher left the world of the Dollhouse behind. Sometimes he
got to live a normal life. Sometimes Ivy just wouldn't go where he wanted her to.
Which is why he was in a grocery store of all places and pushing a cart filled with
things his mother told him would kill him. He didn't worry about that. He worried
about all the time he was losing being here, doing the mundane tasks of life, jobs
reserved for people who were not him.
He whistled softly as he reached the juice aisle, the kid in him delighted by
the juice box variety available. He glanced up idly and then hastened to turn
around. Paul frakking Ballard was right in front of him, perusing the types of juice
available. The FBI agent who would beat him senseless and lock him up if he only
knew. If he only knew. Topher straightened up. The other man had never seen him,
couldn't possibly have any clue as to his fellow shopper's connection to the
Dollhouse.
He still felt panicky. His greatest enemy was five feet away, apparently
settling on Mango-banana, and his respect for the man plummeted a little. Topher
wasn't meant for things like this. He was the science guy, the man behind the gray
matter curtain, the person most likely to not get a bullet in the head or take
responsibility for anything. And he didn't know if his heart could take adrenaline
rushes like this. It made him glad that he could slink up the aisle, laugh inwardly
at the unsuspecting dupe, pay for his purchases with a Dollhouse credit card, and
never have to leave the safety of his lab again.
“Excuse me?”
Topher froze.
“W-what?” he asked, barely looking at the man.
“Do you know where I could find the organic section?”
Organic, of course, he wanted organic, the ninny.
“I-I don't work here, man.”
“Oh, sorry, just...the vest.”
Topher looked down at his clothes. Slightly out of fashion, maybe, but
grocery store clerk material, hardly. Right?
“It's a-okay,” Topher said, way too brightly, even for him. “Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
Paul Ballard turned away and Topher started to breathe, pretty sure that the
word Dollhouse had somehow become etched on his forehead. He walked quickly to the
front of the store, paid, and left, heading in the wrong direction before he even
noticed. But then he congratulated himself on his subconscious mind obviously trying
to throw off any pursuit, despite the almost hundred percent surety of that not being
likely.
It would still make a great story to tell Ivy when he got back. While she
unloaded the groceries.
by Jesterlady
Rating: PG
Pairing: None
Summary: Topher's at the grocery store and sees Ballard
A/N: This was inspired by a comment Fran Kranz made at a panel where he said he wished we could see something totally random like Topher's just out grocery shopping and looks up and who should be there but Ballard? I thought it was a good idea. LA's not that big, right?
Disclaimer: I don't own Dollhouse. The title is from a play by William Shakespeare
I Pray We Were Better Strangers
Topher didn't leave the Dollhouse very often. Why would he need to with so many things of entertainment around, five star cuisine available from the kitchen, and Ivy to run out and get those little unhealthy things that are so necessary in life? He had a bed in the back, though he did much prefer his one at home. What else was there? The Dollhouse was his world, a flawed, sometimes violent one, but a world where he could be himself and a genius and not have to worry about the consequences.
Occasionally he wondered about what would happen if it was ever found out, if
the urban myth was ever proved true, if society ever got off its ass and did
something about the horrors it so eloquently denounced but never fought against. He
didn't worry often. That was a job for Dominic or DeWitt or unknown Rossum suits.
He just played with his toys and listened with open ears to secrets he wasn't meant
to know. Like Alpha worries or an FBI agent poking his nose where it didn't belong,
and Dolls glitching with increasing rapidity.
But sometimes Topher left the world of the Dollhouse behind. Sometimes he
got to live a normal life. Sometimes Ivy just wouldn't go where he wanted her to.
Which is why he was in a grocery store of all places and pushing a cart filled with
things his mother told him would kill him. He didn't worry about that. He worried
about all the time he was losing being here, doing the mundane tasks of life, jobs
reserved for people who were not him.
He whistled softly as he reached the juice aisle, the kid in him delighted by
the juice box variety available. He glanced up idly and then hastened to turn
around. Paul frakking Ballard was right in front of him, perusing the types of juice
available. The FBI agent who would beat him senseless and lock him up if he only
knew. If he only knew. Topher straightened up. The other man had never seen him,
couldn't possibly have any clue as to his fellow shopper's connection to the
Dollhouse.
He still felt panicky. His greatest enemy was five feet away, apparently
settling on Mango-banana, and his respect for the man plummeted a little. Topher
wasn't meant for things like this. He was the science guy, the man behind the gray
matter curtain, the person most likely to not get a bullet in the head or take
responsibility for anything. And he didn't know if his heart could take adrenaline
rushes like this. It made him glad that he could slink up the aisle, laugh inwardly
at the unsuspecting dupe, pay for his purchases with a Dollhouse credit card, and
never have to leave the safety of his lab again.
“Excuse me?”
Topher froze.
“W-what?” he asked, barely looking at the man.
“Do you know where I could find the organic section?”
Organic, of course, he wanted organic, the ninny.
“I-I don't work here, man.”
“Oh, sorry, just...the vest.”
Topher looked down at his clothes. Slightly out of fashion, maybe, but
grocery store clerk material, hardly. Right?
“It's a-okay,” Topher said, way too brightly, even for him. “Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
Paul Ballard turned away and Topher started to breathe, pretty sure that the
word Dollhouse had somehow become etched on his forehead. He walked quickly to the
front of the store, paid, and left, heading in the wrong direction before he even
noticed. But then he congratulated himself on his subconscious mind obviously trying
to throw off any pursuit, despite the almost hundred percent surety of that not being
likely.
It would still make a great story to tell Ivy when he got back. While she
unloaded the groceries.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-06-24 04:51 am (UTC)here via blank_dolls
Date: 2010-06-24 09:07 am (UTC)himself on his subconscious mind obviously trying to throw off any pursuit, despite the almost hundred percent surety of that not being likely.
HA. I love it. The whole fic is gold. ♥
Re: here via blank_dolls
Date: 2010-06-25 03:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-25 03:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-26 05:18 am (UTC)Excellent fic. :)
no subject
Date: 2010-06-26 07:26 pm (UTC)I'm glad you liked, thanks for commenting!
no subject
Date: 2010-07-28 05:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-28 06:49 am (UTC)