Now
"Do you trust me, Claire?"
Her lips quirk; she's aware of how ironic it is, him asking her this while she's sitting in the chair, about to let technology into her head. It will be the last time, she knows. She'll be Claire, forever, until she dies a natural death, surrounded by fat grandchildren.
"Because you earned it, not because they made me... I trust you, with my life."
Recently
It's late, and they're curled up together in bed. This isn't exactly what she imagined when she fled the Dollhouse and realized she had no one else in the world but him, but she'd be lying if she said she was unhappy with the situation; he's one the only one who looks at her and sees Claire, not Whiskey or a doll or whoever she was before. He's the only one who knows her--knows Claire--who wasn't complicit in letting her believe, in a house full of dolls, that she was a real person.
"I think I found a way... that we can save you. A way that we can anchor your personality, forever."
For a second, it's like everything stops. Her breathe catches, her heart pounds and her ears ring.
"Topher?" She asks, because who else could create such a thing.
"No, another house's Topher... he wants money, of course, but I have enough and... you're worth it. And then... we can go away. We can be free of the Dollhouse, and they won't ever be able to take you away."
There is nothing that scares her more than the chair. Since she found out about Whiskey, she's lived in fear of being taken to that chair and destroyed. She doesn't want to die.
A month or so after she found out, she asked Boyd who her handler was. Who was responsible for watching her, who could convince her to climb into the chair and into oblivion because Topher programmed her trust them.
"Well, you don't have one," he had said, sounding surprised. "I guess since you're in the house...."
"They didn't have to catch me since I'm a trapped mouse." Claire wonders if she hates them less for not mucking around in her head more, or more for not even thinking she's worth it.
Laying in the dark, months later, with hope in heart, she says, "Ok. Let's do it. I'll go back in the chair one last time and then... let's disappear."
Before
"Mr. Langton, as a part of your new responsibilities as Chief of Security you are assigned to Dr. Saunders."
"Excuse me? As... a handler?"
Adelle's eyebrow rose. "Is there a problem?"
"No, I just wasn't aware that she had a handler because she's...."
"Different?" Somehow the word seems like a slur falling from her lips. "Mr. Langton, all of our dolls, no matter their assignment, are assigned handlers. The responsibility was Mr. Dominic's, but as he is no longer with us, it falls to you."
"I understand. When do you want it done?"
"Haven't you noticed her sudden....affinity to you? It's done, Mr. Langton, as soon as you told her you were the new head of security--that is a part of her programming. You did tell her, did you not?"
"Yes."
"And her response?" It hits him, then. At the time he'd been flattered that she had so much faith in him. He sighs before answering.
"She said, 'I can't think of anyone I would trust more.'"
A smile curves the corners of Adelle's lips before she dismisses him. "That will be all, Mr. Langton."
Now
Claire lies down in the chair and grips Boyd's hand.
"In a moment, you'll be who you were always meant to be. You're perfect." He smiles at her and there is so much kindness in him that she knows this will all work out.
She closes her eyes and the chair falls backward.
In a minute, when the chairs raises and her eyes flutter open, Boyd smiles and squeezes the delicate hand he's holding.
"Hello, Clyde."
Thanks for reading! I own nothing. I just couldn't figure out when or why Clyde 2.0 was put in Whiskey, so this is my theory.
The title comes from something Boyd said in 1x10 Haunted, "That's the beginning of the end. Life everlasting. It's.. it's the ultimate quest. Christianity, most religion, morality.... doesn't exist, without the fear of death."