Let me carry your story in my heart

(Here, have some Pacific Rim AU!)

-

"We need to talk about your life choices," she tells him, proud when her voice doesn't shake. The metal of the gun is cold in her hand, the weight of it more than its sum, but it does the trick: He puts his hands in the air, pausing his calculations.

"Okay. Sure thing, boss. Talk away." But any facade of fondness has fallen away (not needed, not anymore); the smirk he gives her is cold, his eyes empty. So different from the warm, lovely smiles he used to offer on even the darkest of days.

Her beautiful, beautiful boy. What have they done to him? "Topher, I know you're in there."

He rolls his eyes. "Look, we've been over this already: he can't fight me. None of you can. He's-"

"-not strong enough. Yes, you've mentioned." It feels like a betrayal to even say, but she will not fight that war when a far greater one is raging around them. "But he can still hear me, can he not? There are a few things I've like to say to him. Two, really."

Apparently satisfied that she isn't going to shoot him, he lowers his hands, turning back to his computer. "I mean, go for it. Not sure why he'd listen to you after you did this to him, but-"

"I didn't!" She protests before she can stop herself, but then forces herself to inhale. Focus; this isn't about them. "Very well. First of all, I want you to know that I forgive you. The things you're doing aren't your fault; they're forcing your hand."

Topher-or rather, the thing now using him-scoffs, continuing to push the buttons to usher in the apocalypse. "Wow, that is just... Super touching. Might even shed a tear about it when he kills you."

The image of that-of poor Topher having to live with that-is too dreadful to even contemplate, and she pushes it firmly aside. "And the second thing is that I love you. I always have, as dearly as if you were my own child."

He's too caught up in his laughter, in his mockery of pathetic human emotions, to catch the shift in her tone. She steps forward, gun long replaced by a thin syringe, and plunges it into the side of his neck.

As he collapses, she catches him, cradling him close as they both sink to the ground. Pressing her forehead to his, she murmurs, "And I promise you, I will find a way to save you. But I can't let them destroy us all."

"I just didn't want to disappoint you," he murmurs into her shoulder.

She isn't altogether sure who he's talking to today; his bad days are getting worse, and often, he forgets who even she is. Always, though, he trusts her. Always, he loves her, he clings to her with all that he is, and she holds him through the pain.

No matter who he thinks she is, though, her answer is the same. "You didn't, darling. You never have."

Sometimes simple assurances help, but not today; today he squirms, whimpers, and clutches her sweater in his shaking hands. "Wanted to make you proud. Always. I always wanted to make you-" He pauses, as if the word escapes him briefly, before he finishes (soft, barely audible): "Proud."

Tears burn her eyes, but she won't allow them to fall, not right now. He needs her strength; it's clear he's out of his own. "I am proud."

"But I can't fix it. I can't-can't-" He exhales sharply. "Can't fix it. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry-so, so, sorry-I-"

He's spiraling, and it's all she can do to hold him up. "It's alright. Shhhh, sweetheart, it's alright." If he truly can't fix it, that's actually quite bad, but he's been through this before: Moments of hopelessness, of utter despair, only to wake up the next day with a new idea, with renewed hope. She's long learned how to ride out the waves. "Get some rest, hm?"

"Can't." Whether he means 'can't rest,' or he's simply echoing his earlier confession that he cannot fix this world they've broken, she isn't altogether sure. Either way, she cards her fingers through his hair, murmuring assurances against his ear.

Little by little, the tension drains from him, as he relaxes in her arms. His breathing evens out, and she knows sleep is pulling him under.

Good. "Sleep," she tells him, soft enough that he does not stir. "We'll have time enough to fix it tomorrow."

At least for the moment, it's still true.

Hey, Saturn by Sleeping at Last is a good Adelle and Topher song to listen to if you want to be sad. Fyi.

Logical Brain: Working out the timeline for a full Jurassic Universe/Dollhouse crossover and then actually writing it would be Too Much

Feels Brain: Henry Wu mentoring Topher Brink tho

Gremlin Brain: Dinosaur Cowboy Laurence Dominic

This is a snippet from the "Epitaph is an Attic-like dream thing" concept I talked to you about. There's a lot of context that isn't here, particularly what pushed Adelle to the point where she finally snapped at Topher.

-

"Please," he repeats, soft and urgent. "I'm so hungry," 

She snaps. "And whose fault is that?" Poison drips from her words, bitter rage, and his world shatters. 

There is no truth he has to remember, no reality to return to. He can't even remember his own name, or what has happened. There is only Her. She has been there, he knows-always there, always helping, always loving-for years now. Always there. Always. Never once has she faltered, not since she started taking care of him. Not a word of cruelty, of anger, of blame. 

But he pushed Her too far, he let her down-his fault, his fault, it's all his fault, he broke it, he knows-he knows what he knows, and-and now he can't even breathe. Too much. Too loud. Too angry. She's angry. Angry with him. His fault, his fault, his fault- 

The world is spinning, thoughts flitting through his mind too quickly to grasp. Butterflies migrating, he thinks, a thread of a thought he can’t hold onto. Scared. Scared of the birds. He cannot breathe, cannot think, and he's still so very hungry. Spiraling inward, into the noise, into the darkness that won't leave him alone. His fault. He knows what he knows. 

Distantly, small things begin to register, like pebbles pelting glass: soft hands on his skin-touching, grabbing, stroking-warmth as someone cradles him close, kisses against his face and hair, and above it all, a voice. Quiet, but urgent, almost desperate. 

"I'm sorry," she says, again and again. "I'm sorry. It isn't your fault, darling, I know that. Please, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." 

Her. She loves him again. Isn't angry. Isn't blaming him. He lets the knowledge steady him, lets it anchor his thoughts. All these years, and she's never once faltered until now. Her. She. Adelle. 

"I'm sorry, Topher." 

Topher. The world falls into place, broken pieces of a fallen mosaic painting a clear picture. He is Topher Brink. She is Adelle DeWitt. And he knows (he knows what he knows, he thinks weakly, but it's soft, and he can drown it out) that this isn't real. They're trapped in a dream, and it's time to go home. 

"I'm so sorry." 

He opens his eyes-when did they close?-looking up at her, taking in the streak of tears on her face. It's rare, he thinks, for her to let him see. She cries often now, he knows, but usually he's too far gone to truly see it. "It's okay," he says quietly, and her next exhale comes with a shudder, relief nearly overwhelming on her features. "It's okay." He reaches up, catching a stray tear under his thumb. She blinks, eyes going wide. "But we can't stay here anymore."

"Promise me," he says once, on a rare lucid day. "Promise me you won't use your powers on me."

Something twists in her gut. She's thought of it a thousand times: how easy it would be to slip into his mind, to rearrange scattered pieces and sew his thoughts into something new. All she'd have to do was make him forget the things he's done (and really, aren't those mostly her fault anyway?).

She reaches out, cupping his cheek, and he looks up at her with eyes soft and trusting. He knows what she could do now, but he isn't afraid. "Darling, I-" She can feel him, can feel the edge of his thoughts against her fingertips, and it would be the easiest thing in the world to follow that trail.

"You can't. Can't. Can't." He's slipping. She can feel it, can see it, and if she isn't careful, he'll bring her with him. "I have to fix this. I know there's a way, I just have to find it. And if you fix me, I can't. Adelle, please." He swallows. "It's me or the world."

You, she thinks. You a thousand times over.

But he is better than her; perhaps he always has been. And she hasn't been able to deny him anything for a very long time. So with one last brush of her thumb against his cheek, against his conscious, against the thoughts she'd give anything to replace, she releases him. "I promise, sweetheart."

She will not make him forget. His power has always been his mind: thinking, processing even faster than a computer. And now, still, those thoughts spin, clouded by the regret of a problem he never should have solved, muddied by the blood on his hands.

If only there was a way to fix him without making him forget. But minds are delicate things, and if she tries to take away the madness without the memory of what caused it, well...

It is, perhaps, a sign of sanity that he has shattered so thoroughly at bringing about the end of the world. To change that might turn him stone cold, and perhaps he would not care enough to make things right.

She will not fix him, but she will keep close by his side, and when he needs her, she will hold him close and whispers promises against his hair. Perhaps, just perhaps, this will be enough.

Paul: You're under arrest.

Topher: What if I don't want be?

A fic: *Has Topher call Adelle 'Mom'*

Me: Brilliant. Showstopping. 12/10.

Here, have a snippet from a Dollhouse soulmate AU I’m working on. This part is set in 1x07, so Topher and Adelle are both a little... Out of it, to say the least.

Chewing on Dollhouse + Biblical imagery but having trouble articulating.

Topher vs Adelle 

The Garden of Eden vs. The Conversion of Paul 

“There is no right or wrong but thinking makes it so” vs “I believe in the work we’re doing” 

The one who didn’t hold to the idea of right and wrong until Sierra, until he knew good and evil and knew that he had helped commit a terrible evil vs The one who thought she was doing the right thing, fighting for what was right, until a light shined on her and she realized she’d been fighting fiercely, believing fiercely, in something that she was terribly wrong about 

And Topher’s arc ends in death while Adelle’s ends in new life 

ALL THE FORESHADOWING

Topher on the phone with Victor-as-Tom, and Adelle saying "Say hi for me!" And later saying "I have a good story about him."

HINTING AT ROGER EVEN THEN.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dollhouse (TV 2009) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Topher Brink & Adelle DeWitt Characters: Adelle DeWitt, Topher Brink Additional Tags: Missing Scene, Hurt/Comfort, Salt and Light, S02e10 The Attic, Friendship, Heart-to-Heart Summary:

Post 2x10, Topher and Adelle have a few things to clear up.