The first part of his plan had been, well, planning the plan. He had some kick ass programs floating around just under his conscious mind and if he stopped thinking with Connor
, he could just run on autopilot. Which was fortunate because Connor, in the grand scheme of things, wasn’t a planner. He was a doer. He got things done.
Part of the planning had been to learn as much about the people in charge of the Dollhouse as he could. That meant he had to focus on the people he remembered interacting with because there was restricted access to the dolls.
The more he had watched Dr. Claire Saunders, the more he had thought she was a subdued Fred. And then, he decided, she was
Fred. Because why else would she stay after she’d gotten her face all jacked up? In the place of her worst nightmare, surrounded by people that had the potential to do more of the same?
So he’d gone looking and they were all missing. His dad, Fred, Gunn, Wesley, and Lorne. They weren’t at the hotel or at Wesley’s flat. He’d looked them up in the phone book and every number had been unreachable. He didn’t really know where the others would fit into the Dollhouse but who was to say that the higher ups didn’t just program part of the staff to be docile, loyal people? That would explain why sad-eyed Dr. Saunders stayed.
He couldn’t be positive. The only reason he knew that ‘Echo’ was Faith was because, even wiped, she had still made his skin tighten with the feeling of a predator, of a supernatural being. Fred’s face, of course, had jolted a bit of recognition but that feeling was unmistakable. That predator instinct was in his blood
and not even having his mind wiped clean would change that.
He knew the smart thing to do would be to call in back up. Of course, Connor had never had back up except for that really brief period when Angel had been in a coffin at the bottom of the ocean. He wasn’t exactly a team player. He honestly didn’t know who to ask. For ‘Caroline’, for Faith, he would ask, if he just knew who to.
Well, he had a couple of ideas but they were still pretty indistinct. It was part of that whole lacking memory minutiae thing. He knew there was someone out there that would help. However, he couldn’t tell the operator that he needed the phone number for a petite blond or an old English guy or a tiny redhead. Especially since the only one that he’d ever met had been the redhead and that was just that one time. The blonde and the English guy swirled through his memories in words and not images. He wasn’t even sure he knew how they were a blonde and an old guy, he just did.
So, he’d work the first part of his plan alone. That was fine. He could wait for the heavy lifting until his memory was a little more together. He would do the things that were low risk until he knew that someone would be around to pick up where he left off.
He was fine being alone. He’d been the first in a lot of different things so that meant he was used to being alone sometimes. He was Alpha. He would get by.