LI
Having taken a bath and changed into a clean shirt and pants, Eleven runs downstairs so as not to keep Henry waiting too long.
"I'm sorry I'm late," she apologizes and, to her surprise, instead of finding him standing toward the edge of the yard (where he usually waits for her), she finds him sitting in the shade of a tree. "Henry…?"
He smiles at her and softly pats the patch of grass next to him—a clear invitation to sit down. Eleven accepts without hesitation.
Once she's there, she turns her head towards him:
"Hen—?"
"I'd like to know," he begins, his eyes fixed on the gray clouds that herald an impending storm, "the reason why you disobeyed me."
Eleven is paralyzed and tries in vain to articulate any word, any explanation that will assuage him…
Dissatisfied with her silence, he finally turns to her, and his gaze is icy as it locks on hers.
"Are you going to pretend you don't know what I'm talking about, Eleven?"
That disarms her: Henry looks genuinely… disappointed. Eleven bites her bottom lip and looks away.
"I couldn't… not do something."
Henry sighs and throws his head back. "What did you do, exactly? Tell me everything."
So she does.
#
Her eyes catch the rapid movement of his Adam's apple, a clear manifestation of his apprehension.
"What were you thinking?" Henry hisses after hearing the whole story.
Eleven, who knows nothing about rhetorical questions, answers honestly: "Of Max."
Henry snorts and puts a hand to his forehead before blurting out, between his teeth: "Of Max. And didn't you think of yourself, of me, of us, Eleven? Argh."
"'Course I did," she counters. "That's why… I didn't let him see me…"
"You took a huge risk, Eleven!" Henry snaps, no longer able to hide his concern. "What if he had realized it was you? If he had noticed your posture, your concentrated expression, your bleeding nose…? Do you think he wouldn't have deemed it odd, at the very least?"
"Yes," Eleven repeats. "And that's why… I hid. No one saw me, no one…"
"You have no way of knowing that for sure," Henry insists, clearly irritated. "What if there had been someone else watching you from afar? School is full of kids of all ages whose hobby is meddling where they shouldn't." She doesn't miss the connotation of his words. "If someone had seen you, would you have any way of even knowing?"
Eleven opens her mouth to speak, but she is forced to close it back instantly. That hadn't occurred to her. No, of course not: in the rush, she had only taken a quick look around her. If there had been someone further away…
She lowers her head.
"I'm sorry," she mumbles.
"Eleven…"
"I'm sorry, but I couldn't…!" she mutters, looking up. "Could not…! Max…! She…!"
She realizes she's hyperventilating; one of Henry's hands finds a place on her shoulder in a matter of seconds.
"Eleven, calm down. Alright. Let's talk about it calmly, okay?"
She nods—she doesn't think her lungs will allow her to pronounce any words at this point.
"Okay," Henry says then. "I've already heard your version of events. Now I'm going to tell you what I think happened, is that alright?" She nods again. "Fine, what I think happened is this: you didn't take me seriously."
At his words, she frowns, and she's already beginning to shake her head when Henry lets go of her shoulder and holds out his palm in a gesture clearly meant to stop her from talking.
"You thought the risks were acceptable," he continues, "because you didn't take the dangers I described seriously. Now, this may be my fault: after everything you've… what we've been through, I've done my best to protect you not only from physical harm, but from psychological harm as well.
"That is why, perhaps, far from that life you once led, your mind has begun to soften memories that would have instilled in you the necessary fear to avoid this type of reckless behavior."
"What... do you mean?" she asks at last, confused.
Finally, Henry smiles, but it's a weak, uncertain, sad smile.
"I mean to say, Eleven," he concludes, "that, for your own good, I must stop hiding the truth from you."