WHO: GUESS THREE TIMES. Why yes, Rashida and Pad, you are so right. WHAT: Someone wanted to figure out if Pad knew about the experiments. Spoiler: he didn't. Um, sorry Leona. WHEN: Last night, June 28th WHERE: Rashida's literal cave WARNINGS: Swearing, mention of self harm STATUS: Completed dia-log
He needs to know. And if he already does, she needs to know that he knows. And either way she has to attempt to soften the blow that will inevitably come when he realises that half the school, including her, Shannon and Leona, already knows it’s a thing. And that none of them have told her that they know.
Dragging Pad from their spot and down to her cave (not officially a blind spot, but Remy and Hailey hadn’t been locked up for their video, so she figures it’d be safe either way) Rashida has that list running through her mind.
If he knows I will say... if he doesn’t know I will say... If this, if that, if then...
Rashida: “I sleep here sometimes.” She hands him the flashlight she’s grabbed for his benefit. “Especially lately.”
Padraig: “Why lately?”
Rashida: “It’s not inside. And I don’t have to share it with anyone. And there’s no cameras.”
Padraig: “Ah. Wherever you can get it, I guess.”
Rashida: “I don’t sleep much when I’m,” she shrugs, a bit awkward in her attempt to lead the conversation in the right direction, “you know, in solitary. That fucking camera, it just... gets me. Somehow.”
Padraig: “Wannit the camera for me, just... couldn’t. Kept thinkin’ about Hume and shite, and Mette wannit there so...”
Rashida: “A week is a long fucking time to be awake.”
Padraig: “I slept a bit. I think. Fuck, I dunno.”
Rashida: “Be awake long enough and you don’t know what is real, I guess.” Fuck these people for doing this to him. Fuck them all. “Or if you’re even awake, if it gets bad enough.”
Padraig: He laughs, it seems out of place, but it’s obvious he needs it. “Fuck, you have no idea. Half the shit I remember could have just been a dream, or a hallucination.”
Rashida: She watches him in the dark, knowing he can’t see her studying him, trying to figure out just how much they’ve fucked him up this time. “Yeah? Like what?”
Padraig: “Saw Mette a bunch. Heard her too, knew she wannit there, obviously, but her voice was so strong... it seemed real. I heated up the wall with my power and put my hand on it. That’s why it’s all fucked and blistered.” He holds up his hand as if to prove that. “But it stopped working ‘bout halfway through.”
Rashida: “That could be the lack of sleep, I guess, but...” She hesitates for a moment, unsure of what to say. What he even means. Did his power stop working? And if so, how the fuck can he not know? “But if your hand is burnt, that part really happened. At some point.”
Padraig: “Well, yeah, my hand was at the start. It’s just that as the week went on... I could see Mette and press it and feel the pain, but still see her. And then... fuck, I don’t even know. It all fucking built up and then I was just blowing fucking fire constantly, which isn’t possible, and I felt hot, which hasn’t happened in fucking years, and it was just... awful. I knew it wannit real, of course it wannit real, but even burning myself or popping a blister or pressing my nails into it didn’t work.”
Rashida: “Those fucking cunts.” She knows it already, of course she does, but now it’s real, it’s real and she slams her fist into the wall until dirt is pouring back at her. It only takes a couple of whacks, this time of night.
Padraig: "What the fuck are you doing to the wall...?"
Rashida: “They experimented on you, Pad.” Her voice is shaking. “They made that happen. They’re doing that to us in solitary now, and you can’t – whatever you fucking do you can’t go back there. Ever. Okay? No matter the reason, you just. Can’t.”
Padraig: "The fuck are you talking about?"
Rashida: “I was told they’re doing experiments on some of us in solitary,” good job on not telling Pad there, Rashida, really, “and I didn’t want to believe it. But if your power grew that much powerful, or uncontrollable or whatever, that might be true.” She shakes her not. “Not, not might. It is true. You should – you should talk to... Laurel. And the others. See if they remember something. If it happened to all of you.” They have the serums, she doesn’t say. What do you think they’re doing with them? she doesn’t say. There’s so much she can’t tell him and that pisses her off as much as all the rest.
Padraig: "The fuck you mean you were told?" His voice is defensive, angry.
Rashida: “A student overheard something. Not about you specifically, but that they were doing that now. I was hoping you weren’t – that they hadn’t started doing it yet, but it kind of sounds like it. Unless it was a dream or lack of sleep or, fuck I don’t know.” She really doesn’t sound like she believes it.
Padraig: "What..." He falls silent, his face a mix of emotions.
Rashida: "We're not safe here. Any of us." She looks away, giving him some privacy. "And don't tell anyone how you found out. I don't know what they'll do to him if they find out what he did. Might be solitary, might be worse. If something happened to him..." It would be all my fault, she thinks, not knowing that it already has, and that without her helping it along.
Padraig: He inhales, but says nothing. His head falls back against the dirt wall, and his shoulder seems to roll sideways to make contact with Rashida. He makes no indication of moving in the foreseeable future.
Rashida: She wraps her arms around him, his silence making her wonder why she felt the need to to tell him anyway. It won’t change anything. Nothing will. She sighs and leans her head against his shoulder, saying nothing. She just waits.