XLIX

Eleven collapses onto the freshly cut grass. Beside her, Henry does the same. This is one of her favorite moments of the day: when, after training, they simply lie down to catch their breath, brown and blue eyes fixed on the sky.

"You were fantastic today," Henry comments, his voice slightly out of breath from the recent exertion. "Do you think you could have contextualized what you saw without me telling you?"

She carefully considers his question: in today's session, they've worked on her ability to delve into other people's memories. Of course, Eleven had only seen things Henry had already told her about—and, certainly, with some censorship on his part—his first days at the Creel mansion, his awkward dinners with his parents, his trips to the attic…

"I think… so. At least a little bit…"

"Great. That second part is more of a mental exercise than a challenge to your abilities, but since it's very likely that the memories you access won't be narrated in an explicit manner, you must be prepared to put them into context."

Eleven shows that she has heard him with a weak 'hm'. Her eyes remain fixed on the clouds slowly gliding above them.

Suddenly, she has an idea: "Henry… what if I looked into Billy's memories?"

It is the wrong question: the man sits up and turns his face towards her, looking at her seriously. "Excuse me?"

Eleven nods and calmly imitates his position, sitting up as well. "Yeah… Maybe if I saw his memories, I would understand his reasons better… That's what Max told me: that I don't understand… what they're going through. And I thought…" She shrugs. "If she doesn't tell me, and I can't ask him…"

She has lived with Henry for five years now: she is well aware of his disapproving expression. That's why his resolute refusal doesn't surprise her: "Not a chance."

Eleven sighs, frustrated. "Henry…"

"You're not ready."

"But you yourself said I was fantastic today," she protests.

"Yes, delving into my carefully selected memories, which I shared with you voluntarily."

"I doubt Billy has your… defenses," she insists.

"While it's obvious that he doesn't, it would still require a colossal effort, with your current ability, to dig into his mind and find what you're looking for. Not to mention that your lack of experience makes you inefficient; it's likely that he will perceive your intrusion and you end up exposing us."

This catches her off guard. "Exposing us?" she repeats, frowning. "But… we've been free for years now…"

"Yes, but we can't let our guard down," Henry replies. "While we've erased all traces of our existence, it only takes one seemingly ridiculous rumor to reach the wrong person for them to start investigating what happened."

"Would that be so bad?" Eleven asks sadly. "Couldn't we defend ourselves? I'm not like I was before…"

"Eleven." His voice is soft, but firm. "Believe me when I say you don't know what those people are capable of. Brenner was just a sample, and there is so, so much that you don't know. Attracting the attention of the government would be a death sentence. At best, we'd be laboratory rats again."

Eleven tightens her lips. "What if you did it…?" she suggests as an alternative.

But Henry is already shaking his head. "I'm sorry, but I won't intervene. There are battles that simply aren't ours to fight, neither yours nor mine."

Noticing Eleven's disappointed expression, Henry places his hand on her cheek and adds: "The day will come when we destroy this unnatural structure that traps us, sweetheart. But in the meantime, we must be smart and survive at all costs, do you understand?"

Eleven nods; Henry's fingers against her cheek are soft and warm.

…

The guilt she feels about this is almost enough to stop her disobedience.

Almost.