With all those second thoughts getting to him, the Scarecrow almost didn't realize the conversation had abruptly ended until Depth Charge was on his feet, handing over the strip Rosemarie had given him- well, not so much of handing or offering as silently demanding his roommate take it. The picture had no true meaning to the former strawman; he turned it over in his hand, apprehension building in him from what he might find on the other side.
And waiting there was exactly what they'd been looking for, he presumed: the name. Harrington... He'd heard it before, hadn't he? But where?
Rising from his seat, the Scarecrow gave Rosemarie a polite bow, doing his best to seem grateful for her 'gift,' even if he wasn't sure he wanted it. "It's awful dangerous out there, ma'am. You take care of yourself." With that, he started for the door, ready to follow Depth Charge across the threshold and hopefully to somewhere familiar, somewhere they would recognize, where they would turn in their name and be done with Aguilar's business.
Two steps from the table, then three- the Scarecrow stopped, looking to the 'gift' he still held in his hand, trying to swallow that lump in his throat. It wasn't so simple, was it? Nothing as innocent as a young girl accidentally causing the demise of a wicked witch by throwing water on her in an attempt to put out a fire before it consumed her friend; they were willingly bringing back a name that the General clearly wanted. Why did he want it, and what would he do to the person to whom the name belonged? The Scarecrow couldn't be sure of either of those, even if he'd had a brain. What would he do if he didn't get it? The officer had threatened them- and their fellow patients- with a punishment; however, there were worse consequences than anything the soldiers might assign. That was the part that refused to settle in his chest.
It clawed more at him now that they'd spoken to Rosemarie. Before, she'd been a faceless entity, and any damage they could do to her or her friend didn't seem as real. She cared for him, though. To put a face and a voice with the name was much—
Oh, that Major Harrington! It suddenly clicked in the Scarecrow's mind: the General's replacement for Nurse Lydia on the intercom, who had apparently tried to help at night them under the name Jill. The sounds of her anguish rang through his ears as if he'd heard them right then.
More pieces fell into place, the realizations that landed on his shoulders making it harder to move. General Aguilar had used them to get the information from Rosemarie because he either couldn't get it himself, or he couldn't be bothered. Either way, it had been up to them to get the name, and they had. Major Harrington— assuming the one from the intercom and the one whose name was before him were the same person, though it seemed like an awfully strange coincidence otherwise— must have been up to something behind Aguilar's back- but what? Was he trying to help the patients as well? And if caught, would he suffer in the way Jill had?
The Scarecrow thought for half a second he would turn around, warn Rosemarie somehow- however, he was frozen on the spot, the hand that held the 'gift' still trembling. His eyes searched Depth Charge for an answer; he opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't think of what to say, or even curse his brain for its incapacity. The Scarecrow couldn't let down the other patients and his roommate- he couldn't stand to see one of his dearest friends chastised because he'd been unable to pull himself together at the last moment.
However, he also couldn't bring himself to hurt another- accidentally or unintentionally, even if that someone was a person he didn't know. To think someone else might end up in the same state as Jill, and that he'd be at fault was just too much.
The Scarecrow's eyes fell; it took all he had to bring them from the floor. "Depth- Richard." He corrected himself with a breath, his throat full of knots. His voice dropped to a whisper. "I know I probably shouldn't try to manage things, but... I don't know if this is the right thing to do."
no subject
And waiting there was exactly what they'd been looking for, he presumed: the name. Harrington... He'd heard it before, hadn't he? But where?
Rising from his seat, the Scarecrow gave Rosemarie a polite bow, doing his best to seem grateful for her 'gift,' even if he wasn't sure he wanted it. "It's awful dangerous out there, ma'am. You take care of yourself." With that, he started for the door, ready to follow Depth Charge across the threshold and hopefully to somewhere familiar, somewhere they would recognize, where they would turn in their name and be done with Aguilar's business.
Two steps from the table, then three- the Scarecrow stopped, looking to the 'gift' he still held in his hand, trying to swallow that lump in his throat. It wasn't so simple, was it? Nothing as innocent as a young girl accidentally causing the demise of a wicked witch by throwing water on her in an attempt to put out a fire before it consumed her friend; they were willingly bringing back a name that the General clearly wanted. Why did he want it, and what would he do to the person to whom the name belonged? The Scarecrow couldn't be sure of either of those, even if he'd had a brain. What would he do if he didn't get it? The officer had threatened them- and their fellow patients- with a punishment; however, there were worse consequences than anything the soldiers might assign. That was the part that refused to settle in his chest.
It clawed more at him now that they'd spoken to Rosemarie. Before, she'd been a faceless entity, and any damage they could do to her or her friend didn't seem as real. She cared for him, though. To put a face and a voice with the name was much—
Oh, that Major Harrington! It suddenly clicked in the Scarecrow's mind: the General's replacement for Nurse Lydia on the intercom, who had apparently tried to help at night them under the name Jill. The sounds of her anguish rang through his ears as if he'd heard them right then.
More pieces fell into place, the realizations that landed on his shoulders making it harder to move. General Aguilar had used them to get the information from Rosemarie because he either couldn't get it himself, or he couldn't be bothered. Either way, it had been up to them to get the name, and they had. Major Harrington— assuming the one from the intercom and the one whose name was before him were the same person, though it seemed like an awfully strange coincidence otherwise— must have been up to something behind Aguilar's back- but what? Was he trying to help the patients as well? And if caught, would he suffer in the way Jill had?
The Scarecrow thought for half a second he would turn around, warn Rosemarie somehow- however, he was frozen on the spot, the hand that held the 'gift' still trembling. His eyes searched Depth Charge for an answer; he opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't think of what to say, or even curse his brain for its incapacity. The Scarecrow couldn't let down the other patients and his roommate- he couldn't stand to see one of his dearest friends chastised because he'd been unable to pull himself together at the last moment.
However, he also couldn't bring himself to hurt another- accidentally or unintentionally, even if that someone was a person he didn't know. To think someone else might end up in the same state as Jill, and that he'd be at fault was just too much.
The Scarecrow's eyes fell; it took all he had to bring them from the floor. "Depth- Richard." He corrected himself with a breath, his throat full of knots. His voice dropped to a whisper. "I know I probably shouldn't try to manage things, but... I don't know if this is the right thing to do."