spikeysgrl18: (pained)
[personal profile] spikeysgrl18
This is my first foray into Dollhouse fic, so be kind ;)

From Quiet Reflection Will Come Action

Author: Jami ( [livejournal.com profile] spikeysgrl18 )

Character(s): Claire Saunders

Rating: PG

Summary: Five years were almost up.

Spoilers: for the entire first season of Dollhouse, especially the finale.

Disclaimer: I don’t own this show nor the characters from it. They all belong to Joss, who is infinitely more creative, wise, and undoubtedly wealthy than me.

“There you go,” Claire murmured softly, giving Victor a tense smile of reassurance as he looked up at her from his spot on the doctor’s examining table. His face, no longer the perfection it was when he first arrived in the Dollhouse, was healing nicely. Even so, he’d never be the same again.

None of them would.

The innocent expression on his face was too much for her to take and she turned away, no longer able to look him in the eye. In her peripheral vision she saw his shoulders begin to hunch and guilt began to consume her.

“Why don’t you get ready for arts and crafts?” she suggested in the most calming voice she could muster up and he smiled. With an obedient nod Victor was gone from her office. Off to trim a bonsai tree or paint with his fingers, no doubt.

Claire watched him walk away until he was no longer in view. Even then her eyes continued to stare off into the distance.

He was just so vacant. They all were. Even she. Just shells of their former selves. Barely people anymore.

Even so, sometimes she felt jealous of the dolls. They walked around with no real sense of purpose or self, but they appeared completely unaware of it. They seemed satisfied with their existence, with walking around in a hollowed out shell.

They didn’t know any better.

She knew. She knew better. And part of her hated herself for her curiosity. Or was that the curiosity Topher imprinted her with?

Wandering around the Dollhouse, scarred both physically and emotionally was hard enough. But knowing she was really just one of them, just another doll, nearly broke her. Nothing about herself, her family, her home that she never spent any time in, her very memories weren’t hers at all. Weren’t even real.

The only real feeling she seemed to have was hate. For Topher for making her this way. For DeWitt and Dominic for bringing her to this place, promising her safety and security in exchange for five years of her life and failing miserably. For Alpha for ruining the only real thing she had, the only thing that truly belonged to her, her face.

Still, her five years were almost up.

Her time had been served and she had a decision to make. Stay or go?

It seemed like a simple dilemma. She loathed this place and all it stood for. She held none of DeWitt’s delusions that the Dollhouse had an altruistic purpose, or Boyd’s determination to protect the people inside. Not anymore.

They all volunteered for this, to be hollowed out and used. Maybe they all deserved what they got.

Maybe she deserved her scars.

And she was scared. Of the outside world. Of people. Of who she was.

What had happened in her life that was so bad that she would willing surrender herself to the Rossum Corporation and the cold and hardened Adelle DeWitt? Could she really be that person again, whoever she was? Did she want to be?

Claire had to admit, despite her anger and rage toward the Dollhouse, there was a certain sense of security about this place. She had a purpose, a home, an identity.

She was person with memories that felt real and true.

She had a name.

She was Dr. Claire Saunders and she wasn’t sure if she was ready to give that up.

Even a fake identity was better than none.

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