One day Alpha loses two of his group to a mob wielding pickaxes of all things, and that's when he decides his dumbshow herd has gotten too big to protect out in the open and turns around to lead them all back to Los Angeles.
The Dollhouse is messier than he expects it to be, full of bodies and burn marks and bullet holes. He tells the others to stay put while he cleans up the worst of it, relying on their natural obedience to be stronger than their tendency to wander. He notices the figure on the second floor immediately, but he doesn't rush to inspect her, instead working his way methodically through the main floor and up the stairs.
He's certain she is dead until he goes to move her and feels the weak flutter of a pulse beneath his fingertips. From the way her wide eyes blink at him when she wakes, he believes she was just as certain of the same thing.
Waking up in the chair with Alpha hovering over her encompasses every one of Claire's worst nightmares, and she flinches horribly even as he backs away with his hands raised in a placating gesture and she remembers what he's become in the intervening years.
Anthony – no, it was Victor again when they left – doesn't remember Alpha's attack on him, not really. The scars were gone before he became aware again, and he can trade dark jokes with the other man and pat him roughly on the back in a sign of solidarity. Claire knows she doesn't actually remember her attack either, but she had to live with the scars. The memory embedded in her mind is real enough. She narrows her eyes and says, "I wasn't planning to come back."
Alpha keeps his voice droll and deadpan now to keep it from ever going vicious. "Sorry to disappoint," he says, "but they never put a doctor in me." He gestures grandly as he backs out of the room, and she reluctantly follows and looks out over the landing to the expressionless people wandering below. "Mostly harmless scratches, but a few are worse for the wear."
Claire feels the tug of her programming and sighs. "Is my office still in good shape?" She doesn't look at him as she walks past.
Alpha nods. "Just as you left it. Well, a bit more dust, certainly." He glances sideways at her as they descend the stairs and adds, "I'd have used one of them, but I thought you'd be more comfortable in this body."
She inhales deeply to slow her nervous heartbeat and says nothing.
She's glad for the work. It keeps her mind off the state of the world above her. It keeps her from becoming desperate enough to ask Alpha anything. (Civil and polite is the best she can offer him, and he repays the kindness by staying away from her.)
Her patients smile blankly at her, and she finds herself longing for that briefest span of time when the ethical implications of doing just this was the worst thing to occupy her mind.
She looks at the empty rooms and abandoned belongings and tries not to worry for people she never could decide whether to hate or not.
Everything starts to happen only a few days later. Claire watches from her office, tallies up familiar faces, new faces, conspicuously absent ones. Her eyes take in the injuries and her fingers itch to be useful again.
The redhead she doesn't recognize is the worst off and the first one she has to tend to. There's some immediate confusion – the loud one who carried the girl in starts shouting something at her, and Echo tries to explain and settles on simply kicking him out instead – and then she's examining the wounds and Echo is just staring at her.
"I didn't think you'd hold out," she finally says, nonchalant.
"I wasn't supposed to."
Echo falls silent again. Then she nods down at the exam table and says, "This is Mag, and the obnoxious one was Zone. They made it all the way to us with a version of me, so I guess your idea worked."
"Not quite the way we'd planned." Claire moves across the room to gather some equipment, stops for a moment to peer out the windows on the way back. "Is that T?" she asks quietly.
Echo follows her gaze to settle on Priya and her son. "Yeah."
"He's gotten so big," she breathes, her tone a mix of disbelief and awe.
"It's been a few years. You missed some things."
Claire's mind drifts to Paul Ballard, but she can't make her mouth form the question.
She's only just finished with Mag, wrapping the injuries and carefully explaining the chances of the girl never walking again, when another piece of chaos breaks out. Claire takes two steps outside her office before it dies down just as quickly, and then she's busy again, with a sedated Kilo this time.
When both her patients are resting, Claire indulges her curiosity and leaves her office once again. From here she can see just a glimpse of Topher, the one she most adamantly refused to think or worry about, sitting in the room he once could not set foot in without suffering a breakdown.
Claire wanders closer, and her hand just brushes the stairs' railing when a voice behind her says, "I wouldn't."
She whirls around and sees Adelle, arms crossed, all dignity and authority beneath the world-weary exhaustion.
The older woman inclines her head and continues, "He's actually focused on something, and it's extremely important that he finish this. We've already had one incident. I'm not sure how he'll react to seeing you, but I'm fairly certain it won't be good." Adelle looks up, sighs, and looks back at Claire. "I'm not going to stop you, but I'd rather you didn't."
She lets go of the handrail.
There is a rush of activity as everyone hurries to finish what needs to be done before the pulse goes off. Claire organizes the medical supplies as she gives her final instructions to Mag for avoiding infection. She hands her the antibiotics and finishes with, "You'll need to change the bandages and keep the area clean. You can get someone to help you with that." The girl glances toward the other patient in the room at this, but Claire has already turned to leave and takes no notice.
Echo predictably stops her just outside the door. "You don't have to go up there, you know. You could stay here with us until the signal fades."
Claire smiles sadly and shakes her head. "I really can't."
"Well, I had to say it." Echo reaches out and sets her hand on Claire's arm. "I hope you take care of yourself."
"So do I."
And then she's standing with the others, waiting to be led outside. And then she's blinking against her first glimpse of sunlight in years.
Her head hurts, and she doesn't know where she is. She's surrounded by strangers, and nothing looks familiar. Panic starts to well up as she looks around, and then, finally, her eyes fall on a face she recognizes.
Adelle DeWitt reaches out a hand and helps her to her feet. "How are you feeling?" she asks, her voice kind but wavering slightly.
The words tumble out of her mouth, "…Has it been five years?"