[Disclaimer: The dollhouse belongs to Joss Whedon and Fox, I'm just visiting.
A/N: I actually wrote this before season 2 began, so Boyd doesn't fit the finalized cannon.]
Ah, But Underneath
Claire grasps the mug full of lollipops in her hands, feels the pale porcelain cooling her fingers. She holds it tight.
"Doctor Saunders...Claire, look at me. Please. We need to do this."
She has been staring down at the rainbow of lollipops, but now she does look at him. She raises her head and locks eyes with Boyd.
"I know," she says quietly.
"It won't be easy," he says.
"I'm ready."
Boyd looks away for a split second and really, really hopes she is. He turns back to her and they lock eyes. He doesn't blink, and he says the words he has prayed he would never again utter.
"Would you like a treatment?"
The change is instant, and severe. Doctor Saunders is no longer there-and yet at the same time, she is.
"That sounds soothing," she says, agreeing instantly. She doesn't sound like an empty doll- she sounds like Doctor Saunders, agreeing to a massage, or a much-needed cup of tea. But no matter how normal she sounds, Boyd knows this is different; this is a reaction in which she has no choice.
"No," Boyd says angrily, and shakes her. She isn't resisting, just doing as she has been programmed, and the cup falls from her unwilling hands, and shattered lollipops cover the floor. Some shards of clay from the mug have rebounded back to cut into her ankle, and she's bleeding, and she hasn't even noticed.
"I would like a treatment," she says. "It has been so long since my last-they were always so soothing."
"No," Boyd says. He will not lose her to this, not nearly so fast. He puts his hands around Claire's face, one on each side, and repeats that. "NO."
She looks sad, and a little confused. "I can't have my treatment?"
Boyd, who can't think for his anger, grabs Claire and kisses her. Hard. At first she is frighteningly still, but then she pulls back.
"Boyd?" she whispers.
"Yes. Oh, thank God, yes," he says.
He's laughing a bit hysterically, but Claire does as she always does, just what is best. She touches him lightly and certainly, soothes him back from that edge. Her expression is set and determined even as he tries not to fall apart.
"I can do better," she says, with a level of certainty Boyd doesn't recognize, but Adelle would easily identify as a hallmark of Whiskey. She was their best active, and she will not fail them now.
She will not fail him.
"Boyd, please," Claire says. "Let's try it again."